A Crimson Crush
by Phoenix Donovan
Summary: PART ONE of a two part story: Draco works for the Order and lives with his lover, Ron, but an unexpected affair is only the beginning of a chain of twisted events that will force Draco to question his loyalty. DracoRon, DracoPansy, DracoFred.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter One**

Draco Malfoy leaned over the porcelain sink and splashed cold water on his face, the shock of the frosty liquid vibrating throughout his entire body. He looked at himself in the mirror and noted that his eyes were red with exhaustion, stingingly so, and his face looked even paler than usual. Tonight had been a particularly troubling case for him— it was always hard to capture and convict someone you knew, and he had known Victoria Skyeland very closely from his father's Ministry work. Yeah well, he thought, should have known then that she was up to no good. Victoria, a former Death Eater and known Werewolf, had been a suspect in the case of the Werewolf Cult for months. Rumor had it that a new and fairly large cult had been rising in the underground of London, and apparently, it all had to do with one very angry Werewolf, Victoria Skyeland, who, after the death of her husband Fenrir Greyback, decided to convert more werewolves to fight against the Order. Now they had a lead on the Cult, and Skyeland was being shipped straight to Azkaban after they got what they needed out of her. Draco smiled at the thought of another accomplished catch. He and many others, including former schoolmates such as Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom, worked in a Secret Society of the Order called The Righteous. Voldemort was dead, had been for over three years now, but that didn't mean there still weren't wizards and witches in the world who were raising hell, and that meant that the Order was still needed.

He sighed and pushed his white-blonde hair out of his face when he heard the door to his apartment open and Ron Weasley stepped in, throwing his briefcase to the ground and undoing his tie. Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy had been secret lovers for two years, out for two, and roommates for one. Draco sat on the sink, observing Ron with quiet affection, as was his nature. Ron worked at the Ministry as an Auror, alongside his best friend Harry Potter. However, Harry wouldn't be working as a fulltime Auror for much longer—he was currently in the running for Minister of Magic, and if he won, would be the youngest Minister in ages. He deserved it though, despite his young age of 20; he had defeated Voldemort, after all. It made Draco smile that Harry would even consider such a position, given his obvious aversion to the Ministry before, but when he asked Harry about this, he had just shrugged and said he wanted to make a change, and it was better to change things than to sit around and complain about it, even if you hated its ways sometimes. Draco smiled at the thought—like the way he had hated the little fluttery feeling he got every time he saw Ron at school so many years ago, or the way his lips used to always feel so rough and chapped when they kissed, or how Ron had been such a whiney little virgin when they first started going at it…

But he loved Ron all the same, despite all of his small imperfections.

"Draco, you here?" Ron asked, taking off his shirt and pants and running a hand through his long, red hair. Ron yawned—he wanted to get to bed soon, he had had a long day at the Ministry, mostly caused by his brothers Fred and George being such gits and apparating into he and Harry's case every five seconds to offer them their new merchandise, Weeping Whoppers. Ron, of course, had been stupid enough to try one and couldn't stop crying for five hours, his face red and tired. He turned around and saw Draco sitting on top of the sink, his hands folded in his lap, a playful smirk playing on his face as his eyes traveled up and down Ron's tall, lean body. Ron smiled and feigned tiredness, although the mere sight of Draco still gave him goose bumps sometimes.

"What are you doing in there?" Ron asked, smiling and sitting on the green bedspread that he and Draco shared. Draco hopped down and strutted out of the bathroom, turning off the light as he went. His smile disappeared when he got close to Ron and he leaned down, scrutinizing his face.

"Have you been crying?" Draco asked, shrugging off his blazer. Draco was probably the only member of the Righteous to even bother wearing a blazer, but it's hard to take the rich and spoiled out of the boy. Ron looked puzzled for a moment before shaking his head and scowling.

"No. Well, yes. It was my idiot brothers, trying to show off their new merchandise…" Ron explained. Draco laughed, standing back up and lifting off his dress shirt.

"And you took the bait," he smirked. Ron sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm bloody tired. Have you been home long?" Ron asked. Draco shook his head, stepping out of his shoes.

"Just got here," he said, and he fell back onto the bed, sighing with relaxation and closing his eyes. Ron turned off the light and got underneath the covers, with Draco shortly behind him. He felt Draco's naked body bump against his side, as Draco never slept with clothes on, and suddenly Ron was at full attention, no longer nearly as tired as he had been only moments again. He turned to Draco, wishing he could see his lover's beautiful gray eyes in the darkness, and Draco pushed himself on top of Ron.

"I hope you're not too tired to fuck," Draco said, his voice low and husky, a chuckle playing beneath his words.

Ron smiled. "Never."

---

Fred Weasley was searching for the shop's new stock of Pigmy Puffs when George came sauntering into the stockroom, carrying a large red envelope, frustration playing across his face. Fred smirked at the Howler.

"From an old girlfriend?" he asked, finding the box he was looking for and turning to go back into the shop. George frowned and shoved the letter in Fred's face.

"It's from mum," he said, his voice tense. "I haven't opened it yet, but I suspect it's about the stupid dinner she's been planning." Fred pushed his hair out of his eyes, put the box of Pigmy Puffs down, and took the letter out of his brother's hand. Each year, their mother planned a dinner to bring the entire family together, and each year, Fred and George found an excuse not to go. Not only were they very busy with the shop, being they were the sole owners and liked to be as interactive with their merchandise and customers as possible, but they were trying to avoid any awkward contact with formerly estranged family members; that being, Percy. Although Percy had finally apologized to his family and quit his raunchy job as the Minister's pathetic second-hand-man to adopt a more considerable position as Editor of the Daily Prophet, Fred and George had still not quite forgiven him for being such a prat the past few years.

"I mean, it's one thing for her to bug us about it, but to send a _Howler_? While we're _working_?" George said, the irritation oozing out of every letter he spoke.

"She's absolutely mental," Fred mumbled, holding the envelope cautiously in his hands. "Well," he sighed. "Let's get this over with…"

He and George counted together: "One…two…three!" And Fred opened the letter, immediately wincing at the piercing, exasperating sound of his mother's voice.

"_FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW UPSET I AM THAT YOU HAVE BEEN AVOIDING MY OWLS! YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THIS DINNER IS TO ME, AND FOR YOU TWO TO NOT SHOW UP FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS IS DEVASTATING! IF YOU DON'T COME THIS TIME, I SWEAR TO MERLIN I'LL GO INTO THE SHOP MYSELF AND HOLLER THIS AT YOU!"_

Fred shot a worried look at his brother, who returned the same look, and they turned back to the letter.

"_The dinner is at seven o'clock this Saturday. I expect you both to be there. Bye, I love you."_

Fred grimaced and crumpled up the Howler, tossing it into the trash and looking back at his brother.

"Well, you know what this means," Fred said.

"We have to go," they both said at the same time. George shook his head. "Any chance we'll be able to avoid Percy?"

Fred considered this only for a moment before answering, a dissatisfied frown playing on his lips. "No way in hell."

---

Pansy Parkinson stared at Draco out of the corner of her violet eye. He was wearing a dark green suit today, with a blue tie that had snakes curling about the silk. The corners of her lips curled up into a slight smile when he looked over at her, winked, and took a flask of firewhiskey out of his jacket pocket, taking a fairly large swig. Pansy and Draco had been very close during their years at Hogwarts together—they had even been boyfriend and girlfriend, kind of, but that was before Draco had to become a Death Eater, and especially before she knew that Draco was gay. He licked his lips at her and smiled. Maybe bisexual, she thought playfully. It was nice that they had remained close after school; Pansy and Draco enjoyed each other's company, both of them delightfully wicked and intolerable in their own way. It was he who had convinced her to join the Order and work under the Righteous, after all. After Lord Voldemort was defeated, and Draco had pronounced his formerly secret love affair with Ron Weasley, the Order had forgiven him, blaming most of his cruel affairs on his father, Lucius Malfoy, who was still locked rotting away in Azkaban. After that, he joined the Order and began to work under the fairly new group called the Righteous. And here he is today, Pansy thought, sneaking firewhiskey out of a flask during work, still the same old Draco.

The Righteous headquarters were located at the Ministry, in a small quarter of the building located in the east wing. Pansy sat at her desk, reading the Daily Prophet and searching for any unusual news that would give her and her colleagues a lead. She read the paper through three times and sighed, finally throwing it into the trash, much to the dismay of the plump woman on the cover who had just opened her own Wand Shop.

"Got anything?" a jubilant voice asked. Pansy turned around and looked up into the cheerful face of Neville Longbottom. She leaned back into her chair and folded her arms, taking a sip of coffee. He peered down at her anxiously.

"Three murders. Twelve suicides. They're suspecting vampires," Pansy said seriously. Neville cringed and looked around her desk.

"Where is the paper?" he asked. He frowned down at the wrinkled Daily Prophet she had thrown in the trash can. "You git."

Pansy giggled. "Sorry, Neville. Unless you want vampires going on a killing spree."

"Of course not," Neville stammered. Draco waltzed up to them and put his hands in his pockets.

"Got anything?" he asked. Damn, he looked good today, Pansy thought, staring up at Draco. He raised his eyebrows at her, looking nearly as anxious as Neville, and she shook her head.

"Nothing more interesting than a baby dragon that that right old loon Hagrid brought to Hogwarts and lost in the castle. The search is being conducted right now," she said, throwing her hands up in mock enthusiasm. Draco smirked and walked away and Pansy followed him as he went. Draco had always been good looking, and aging did him well. He still had the white-blonde hair, but had since grown it out and now he wore it straight and down over his eyes, the longest hairs reaching the sides of his strong jaw. He had also grown another few inches since his years at Hogwarts, standing at a beautiful 6'3. And if Pansy remembered properly, he still had a strong, lean body, and perfect porcelain skin that he hid under all those fancy clothes. She put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand, staring at Draco and fantasizing about walking over there and asking him for a good old-fashioned fuck.

"Pansy?" Neville asked, peering down at her and interrupting her daydream. "Are you all right?"

"Ugh, not anymore Neville," she groaned. "And I was just about to find my way out of boredom."

Neville shrugged and walked away, leaving Pansy to her work, or lack thereof, in the case of today. She often became restless if there weren't any interesting murders or long-term cases to work on, and now with the Werewolf Cult left up to a higher order, she feared monotony for months. Pansy sighed and stood up, going outside for a smoke. Maybe she could ask Draco to go for a walk, she thought. Maybe they could hang out together sometime. I mean, sure, he was gay and all, and he was currently shagging Ron Weasley, a very highly respected Auror, but that couldn't stop Pansy from still liking Draco. She had, after all, been Draco's very first shag, and Pansy knew from experience that you never, ever stop loving your first good fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter Two**

At lunch time, Draco walked into the hallway to do his sneak apparation over to Ron's work. Draco had always been a fairly accomplished apparator, and with a loud _Crack! _he landed right on top of Ron's desk, cross-legged.

"Blimey!" Ron yelped, jumping back a little. Harry looked over from his desk and laughed. This was the third time Draco had popped into he and Ron's work, and it was amusing to see that Ron was still jumpy about it.

"It's okay," Draco said, running a hand through his hair and casting Harry a look before eyeing Ron affectionately. "I'm used to him by now."

Draco jumped off the desk and held out his hand.

"I'm taking you to lunch," he said. "Come on."

Ron looked at his unfinished work and shrugged, taking Draco's hand. Draco smiled, winked, and together they popped out of the building.

"Do you suppose you could just walk over to get me next time?" Ron asked when they landed outside the Leaky Cauldron. "We _do_ work in the same building."

Draco rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"You know, I could, but what fun would that be?" Draco said, pushing open the door to the restaurant and pulling Ron in behind him.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, pulling his hand out of Draco's firm grip and rubbing it. "I'm coming, you don't have to tug so hard."

They took a seat by the window and Draco studied Ron over the top of his menu. Ron's blue eyes looked dull today, his red hair a bit of a mess as well. Draco put down his menu and stared at his boyfriend, who looked up at Draco and smirked.

"What is it?" he asked, combing his self-conscious fingers through his hair. Draco said nothing at first, then curled his lips into a mischievous smile.

"You just look a bit tired, that's all," Draco said. "I must have worn you out last night."

Ron blushed and buried his head back in his menu, and Draco leaned back into his seat, smiling, as the waitress walked by the take their orders. Draco ordered the seven-layer salad and Ron the cheeseburger—Ron always ate more than Draco, as Ron usually ate more than everybody, but today he barely nibbled on his burger.

"You okay?" Draco asked as he gazed down at the half-eaten food. Ron sighed and put his face in his hands.

"I'm fine, I guess. Just a little stressed."

"Why?"

Ron sat up and pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket, handing it to Draco.

"It's from my mum," Ron explained. "About the family dinner. You know, the one I go to every year?"

Draco scowled and crossed his arms. "You mean the one I'm never invited to?" His lip curled involuntarily into a sneer, force of old habit, and Ron cringed, the expression bringing back unpleasant memories of Hogwarts.

"It's not you, Draco," Ron said quietly, reaching a tender hand out and touching Draco's cold fingers. "I'm just afraid of, you know, their reaction."

"They _know_ we're together," Draco scoffed.

"I know…but they've never _seen_ us together."

Draco rolled his eyes. "What do you think we'll be doing? Snogging right in front of everyone at the dinner table?"

Ron sighed. "_Maybe_!"

"I'm a Malfoy, Ron," said Draco, studying his cuticles. "I have more class than that."

The waitress came by and Ron quietly asked for the check, lucky for a break from the awkward conversation, and when Draco pulled his wallet out to pay for his meal, Ron held up a hand.

"It's on me," he said. Draco smiled a little; he remembered that once-upon-a-time Ron couldn't even afford the candy off the Hogwarts Express trolly. After paying, they sat in silence for a moment, Draco eyeing Ron steadily.

"I'm sorry Draco," Ron began. "I didn't…I haven't…it's just hard sometimes."

Draco nodded. It _was_ hard. Not as hard as it would be if they were muggles, certainly, for the Wizarding world was much more flamboyant and, let's face it, _gay_, than regular humans, but nevertheless, that didn't make it especially easy. Draco tapped it fingers on the mahogany table and leaned forward.

"Are you ashamed of me, Ron?" he asked, his gray eyes flashing. Ron's eyes widened.

"No! No, Draco, I'm not," he leaned forward and kissed Draco lightly on the lips. "Not at all," he murmured. Draco smiled and stood up, Ron fast in his wake, and the two of them went outside.

Ron stood beside Draco, opening his mouth like he wanted to speak, then drawing back, looking hesitant.

"Out with it," Draco said, lighting up a cigarette.

Ron took a deep breath. "The family dinner is a big deal to my mum. I mean, all of my brothers come, even Percy…" he thought for a moment. "Well, actually, Fred and George never come, but still, you can't really blame them…"

"What's your point, Ron?" Draco asked, blowing smoky cigarette snakes from between his lips. The snakes turned and hissed at Ron, who cringed a little and began to speak again.

"My point is…I've just been a little nervous. But…" he took another deep breath. "I guess it's time you met my family. I mean, I love you, my friends have grown to tolerate you, you've done a lot of good work for the Ministry…"

Draco's snakes curled around each other and disappeared. He turned to Ron.

"Are you actually inviting me?" he asked. Ron stood up straighter, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he said. Draco smiled and put out his cigarette.

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable," he said. "I hate it when you get uncomfortable. You sweat all over the place."

"No," Ron said nervously. "I'll be fine."

Draco smirked and checked the time on his watch—they had only been gone for half their lunch break. He looked back up at Ron and was about to ask him if he'd fancy a little afternoon shagging before heading back to work, but Ron stepped in and gave him a tiny kiss on the forehead.

"The dinner is this Saturday at 7," he said, and then he was out of sight.

---

The air was stiff and cold in the Weasley twins' apartment and Fred sat at the kitchen table, recording inventory for next week's shipment. He tapped his fingers on the table and sighed, grabbing a beer out of the fridge with his wand and taking a jerk. George yawned and sat up from the table.

"Where you are going?" Fred asked, not looking up from his work.

"It's midnight already," George replied. "And I have to open tomorrow."

Fred smirked. He hated opening—he was the late sleeper of the two, and he made sure that that little detail was considered when they decided to open their joke shop.

"Then you'd better get your beauty sleep," Fred said in mock-affection. George yawned, waved in the same manner as his brother's sarcasm, and went off into the bedroom they shared. Fred sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and pulling his hair back into a loose ponytail. He had been working on the stupid stock for hours, and he was absolutely exhausted. He shoved his work aside and took another swig of his beer—his third beer, to be exact. You shouldn't drink so much, George would say, but Fred just laughed it off, as drinking was one of his favorite hobbies. He was an Irish boy, for Merlin's sake. Fred walked over to the sofa and laid down, groaning as he stretched out and cracked his back and shoulders. He sighed heavily, staring at the yellow liquid in the clear glass bottle.

"Bottom's up," he said to himself, and took a long chug, the liquid tasting bitter sweet in his mouth. He burped and closed his eyes. He had been drinking a lot more than usual, he noted. Simple explanation: Fred was bored. Every day seemed the same to him lately, which was odd because he and George usually found loads of fun things to do, whether it was raising hell or raising money. Or getting laid, Fred thought, which he hadn't done in a couple of months. In fact, the last girl he'd gone to bed with was Katie Bell, an old teammate, friend, and fellow Gryffindor turned fantastic shagging partner. Fred smiled at the thought, then felt incredibly lonely when he realized that he hadn't seen Katie in a while, and although he had had many shagging prospects, he never found himself quite interested enough to make the effort. Women were complicated projects that took time and discipline, neither of which Fred had at the moment.

"Accio alcohol," Fred slurred, and all of the beers in the fridge came floating over to him. He sat up and popped a cap, swigging one down. He finished off another three beers in the next twenty minutes, and the last thing he remembered was laying down on the couch and closing his eyes.

When Fred woke up, it was half past nine. Oh shit, he thought, scrambling to his feet, his head clouded and pounding with a major hangover. He pulled on slacks, shoes, and a sweater and ran downstairs to the shop, where George stood at the register, laughing heartily with a customer. Fred blinked, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and walked up to his brother.

"Sorry mate," he said in a low voice. The customer paid and George turned around, his face looking quite disgusted upon seeing Fred.

"You look like shit," George said. Fred groaned and rested his head on the cool glass panel that shelved Fire Dragon Pops.

"Go back upstairs," George said, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and turning him away. "I do _not_ want you scaring off any of the loyal customers."

"I'm fine," Fred said, but he swayed a bit and had to catch himself on tabletop. George rolled his eyes and grinned.

"I'll cover this shift. You can come down at 2."

Fred frowned, but a loud noise from the side of the shop made his head feel heavy with dropping bricks and he obliged, stumbling back up the stairs and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

---

Pansy sat at a table playing cards with Neville and a young witch named Alexandra Fralinger when Draco stood up from his desk on the other side of the room, stretched, and walked into the break room. Pansy's eyes followed him and she grinned and stood up, grabbing her mug.

"I need more coffee," she said matter-of-factly.

Alexandra adjusted her pink glasses and eyed Pansy quizzically.

"Your cup is full," she said.

"I need more sugar then," Pansy said sharply. "Whatever excuse you find to be most believable."

She walked into the break room, fluffing her long black hair and smoothing her skirt, and sauntered over to the coffee machine. Draco looked over and smiled.

"Hey Pansy," he said.

"Hey Draco," Pansy said nonchalantly, pouring sugar into her coffee and leaning back against the fridge. She felt Draco's eyes on her, and when she looked up at him he was smiling slyly, his eyes traveling up her long legs and tight blouse.

"You look nice today," he said calmly, taking a sip of his drink.

"Thanks," Pansy said, trying to stifle a grin. She had Draco where she wanted now. He winked at her on his way out and Pansy put down her coffee, sat up on the counter and eyes Draco mischievously. She crossed her legs and he stopped, turning to face her, smirking.

"Do you remember our first fuck, Draco?" Pansy asked casually, smiling when she saw the knowing glint in his eye.

"Sure I do," he replied. He took a step toward her, his eyes on hers now. "We were in our third year. It was on my fourteenth birthday."

"I remember…" Pansy said, "…that we snuck out of our dormitories and went into the abandoned girls' bathroom."

"Yeah," Draco said, "and if I remember correctly, I shagged your fucking brains out."

Draco grinned and Pansy studied her hands. "You sure did."

"Hmm," Draco murmured, "thanks for the kind visual Pansy, it'll be sure to make my day more interesting."

Pansy hopped down from the counter and flipped her raven hair over her shoulder.

"What exactly made you bring that up, Pansy?" Draco asked, eyeing her suspiciously. Pansy shrugged.

"I just think it's important to hold on to old memories," she said, walking past Draco and bumping her hand against his. She turned around and leaned against the side of the door.

"I was wondering Draco…if you would like to get together sometime. Maybe go out for some coffee or something. It would be nice to catch up with you."

Draco smiled. "Sure."

"Are you free this weekend? Saturday night, maybe?" she asked. Draco's face fell slightly.

"Oh…er…I'm busy that night," he said, looking a bit disappointed, which pleased Pansy even if he wasn't free to shag her after all. She just smirked.

"Well, when you free up your busy schedule, make sure you make a little room for me. We can catch up on…old times."

Draco's eyes twinkled and he smiled slyly. "I'd like that."

Pansy turned and left the break room to go back to her card game, pleased with herself as she thought about the intrigue Draco so evidently felt. My plan is working, she thought, and sat down with her friends.

"Did you get what you needed?" Alexandra asked, throwing down her cards. "I'm out."

"Oh yeah," Pansy said, leaning back in her chair. "Exactly what I needed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter Three**

Draco lay awake in bed, thinking about his day, Ron snoring beside him. He felt troubled, and he knew why; Damn Parkinson, he thought. Coming in with her sexy outfit and suggestive conversation. _Do you remember our first fuck Draco?_ The vixen had asked offhandedly. What the hell kind of question was that? Of _course_ he remembered his first fuck. It was his _first fuck_ after all! But Draco didn't swing that way anymore; as much of a nymph as Draco was that allowed him to enjoy any sex, he had grown tired of Pansy and chosen Ron, who had kept him happy for five years now.

Then why did Pansy turn me on so much today? He thought. He had been positively itching to get into her pants all afternoon, springing to life every time she walked by him and smiled that evil, sexy little smile of hers. Ron rolled over and lay his head on Draco's shoulder. Draco reached up and stoked his lover's scarlet hair, sighing. He had to admit, things weren't as fiery as they used to be, back when he and Ron were first together, exploring and experimenting. He still loved Ron, and the sex was fine, but a part of him wanted something more…

That's probably why Pansy had an effect on me today, he thought. Despite not liking girls so much, Pansy was kinky, and that was exactly how Draco liked it.

Harry Potter came into Draco's workplace the next day, carrying a folder of moving pictures in his arms, and lay the folder on Draco's desk.

"What's this?" Draco asked, opening the folder and staring down into the psychotic black eyes of his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco looked up at Harry, who wore a frustrated expression.

"New assignment from the Order," Harry said, sitting down and gesturing for Draco to take a seat. "Assigned to me."

"Assigned to you? Why?" Draco asked, sitting down beside Harry. Harry was in the Order, but he didn't work under the Order; he worked as an Auror, so he didn't take assignments from the Order, Draco and the others in the Righteous did. Harry looked serious.

"The Order thought I might be interested in working on this case," Harry explained. "Alongside you."

Draco leaned back into his chair, taking his eyes off Lestrange. She was still out there, Draco knew. And he also knew that it was Harry's greatest wish to find her and avenge Sirius's death.

"Okay, what's the assignment?" Draco asked.

"Are you on board?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Probably," he replied. Draco never turned down a case, after all.

"Good," said Harry. "Because actually, we really need you."

Draco smirked. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Listen," Harry said. "Lestrange is the only former death eater who hasn't been caught. We thought we'd gotten close to catching her before but…you know, those all fell flat."

Draco nodded, remembering those nights when Ron would have to hurry over to Harry and Ginny's flat to comfort him on once again failing to catch his godfather's killer. He turned to the next page and Draco caught his breath, staring down at the image of a thin, blonde woman with icy blue eyes, blinking up at him, wearing a sneer that much matched the one he used to be so infamous for…

"Narcissa Malfoy," Harry said, "is our lead. And that's why we need you."

Draco was silent, staring down at his mother—he hadn't seen or talked to her in years. After he joined the Order, his mother estranged him from the family.

"She knows where Lestrange is," Harry said. "We need you to talk to her. Get it out of her somehow."

"Just use Veritaserum," Draco said, closing the folder on his mother's face.

"We might, later," Harry said. "But that takes forever to make. We thought we might try this way first."

"She won't tell me anything," Draco said. "I can't persuade her. She hates me now."

Harry sighed. "I know. But it's worth a shot, isn't it? You _are_ her only son."

"Well, I never said I wouldn't try."

Harry smiled and stood up, shaking Draco's hand. "I'll tell McGonagall."

Draco rested his face in his hands and sighed.

"Are you okay, Draco?" a voice said from above Draco's hung head. He peered up into the pretty face of Pansy Parkinson and couldn't help but sneer a little. He wasn't in the mood for her right now.

"You look tense, Draco," she said. "Do you want a backrub?"

"No," he said quickly, standing up and shoving the folder in a desk drawer.

"Draco," Pansy said, her eyes glistening, her face full of hurt. "Have I done something to upset you?"

Draco frowned, looking down at Pansy sympathetically. "No Pansy, it's not you."

Pansy smiled and reached up, placing her hands on his shoulders. He sighed and sat back down, succumbing to her touch as she dug her fingers into his tense shoulders, sending shivers up his neck. He tried to ignore the way her hands could read his body like a map, how she remembered exactly how he liked to be touched. She moved her hands up and rubbed his neck, little goosebumps forming on his skin.

"Thanks Pansy," Draco muttered, breathing short sighs of relief as his muscles relaxed.

"There you go," Pansy said, her voice delicate and soothing. He felt her hands leave his skin and little pricks of strange pleasure erupted all over him. He turned around to look at her again, but by the time he did, she was gone.

---

Fred and George sat in their favorite pub, The Hog's Head, on Thursday night, relaxing after a long day at the shop. It was already a little past ten, and Fred was having his third pitcher.

"Jesus, slow down Fred," George said, cocking one eyebrow at his brother. He turned around and gazed at the door, his eyes suddenly lighting up, and he grinned, nudging Fred in the ribs.

"Ouch, what is it?" Fred asked, taking a drink. He followed his brother's eyes to the pretty brunette witch who just walked into the pub. She was eyeing Fred seductively, and smiled at him when she sat down at a table and noticed that he was looking back at her.

"Heyyyy," George said to Fred, the grin plastered to his face. Fred smirked and winked at the girl, tossing a wave of cherry hair out of his face. He wasn't especially attracted to brunettes, as blondes were much more his type, but he felt a little tipsy and anyway, he needed to get his mind off the problematic dinner he would be attending in a couple of days. Taking the bait, he stood up and sauntered over to the girl, who turned her head away and giggled. Fred smirked. He liked it when they played it coy. He sat down in front of her and leaned back to grab the attention of a waitress.

"What will you be having?" Fred asked, staring straight into the eyes of the brunette and smiling. She never took her eyes off him as she ordered a martini on the rocks, and he had to admit that he found her a lot prettier now that he could see her up close. She had flashing emerald eyes, pretty pink lips, and her long raven hair fell in silky waves down her back.

"I'm Fred," he said, extending a hand. The girl took it, her skin soft and warm.

"Christina Mills," she said, winking. His lips curled higher, intrigued. "You and your brother own the joke shop a few blocks down, right?"

"Right you are," he said casually. He leaned forward. "We give pretty girls discounts."

She laughed, raising her eyebrows at him.

"What do you do?" he asked. Stripper, he bet to himself.

"I'm a nurse trainee at St. Mungo's," she answered.

This time Fred was the one to raise his eyebrows. "Ambitious."

"I guess so. But owning your own shop is ambitious, too."

Fred shrugged. "I go for what I want."

Christina smiled. "Apparently, so does your brother."

"What?"

Christina pointed over Fred's shoulder and he rolled his eyes, smiling, and not even bothering to look back.

"He's snogging someone, isn't he?" he asked.

Christina nodded.

"My brother for you."

"Are you anything alike?" Christina asked. The waitress came by and gave Christina her martini. She picked the stick out of her drink and cocked an eyebrow at Fred, who leaned forward and bit the olive off the stick, keeping his eyes locked on her.

"So, you didn't answer my question," Christina said. Fred swallowed.

"Am I anything like my brother?" he turned around and watched as his brother slid a sly hand underneath a poor girl's shirt. Another victim, Fred thought, shaking his head and turning back to Christina.

"It depends," he said, grinning. "I can be exactly like my brother if that's what you want."

Christina just grinned and took a sip of her drink.

"So do you mind me asking what a girl like you is doing here?" he asked. Ten galleons says she's here to get laid, Fred thought to himself.

"What do you mean a girl like me?" But she smiled because she knew exactly what he meant. He amused her, and touched her leg with his foot underneath the table.

"Pretty," he said, his eyes softening, "Smart. Classy."

"Can't a girl have some fun?" she replied. Close enough, Fred thought.

"In that case, would you like to see my flat?" Fred ventured, his eyes as wide and innocent as he could make them.

Christina opened her mouth to speak but a voice yelled over, interrupting her.

"See you at home, Fred!" It was George, who Fred saw upon turning around that his brother had his arm around not one victim, but two. He watched George stumble out of the bar. Fred groaned and stood up. It looked like George had done his brother's job for him. He threw some money on the table to pay for Christina's drink without so much as casting another look in her direction.

"Hey, where are you going?" Christina asked, but Fred ignored her, walked outside, and pivoted out of sight with the large _Crack! _that always accompanied apparating. He reappeared outside his home in order to give his brother a bit of privacy just in case, but when he got to the front door he heard loud laughter coming from inside. Considering the scene to be a safe one, he entered his apartment and walked into the kitchen.

"Oh, there _are_ two of you!" A girl with long red hair smiled at Fred, her friend draped all over George, holding a beer. He was surprised there was even any beer left.

"Double your pleasure," Fred said, staring at the redhead, a feral grin on his face. She came over to him, George apparently too preoccupied with his own catch to acknowledge Fred. No matter though, this girl would give Fred all the attention he needed.

"Can I see your room?" she asked, looking longingly up at him.

"Well, you can't avoid the Weasley charm," he said, grinning and holding out his hand. She squealed and took it, feeling cold and clammy and…

Drunk, Fred thought. Why were girls always so drunk when they slept with him? Before Fred could even reach his room, he was being pinned up against the wall, the girl's lips pressing against his. He didn't even know her name, and right now, he didn't care. He grabbed her waist and picked her up, and she giggled in between kisses, grabbing his hair in her hands and stroking his face. She smelled like flowers and alcohol, her flushed cheeks the shade of roses. And without any further ado, he carried her into the bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind him.

---

The Righteous had been called to a meeting by the Order, and Pansy made sure that she snagged a seat beside Draco. She could almost feel the chemistry sparking between the two of them, as she had yesterday while giving him a massage. She wondered if Ron ever did anything for him like that, glaring at the messy carrot top who sat on the other side of Draco. He and Harry were the only Aurors there, much to Pansy's annoyance. In her opinion, it should be up to the Righteous to do the dirty work, and Aurors should be wiped from the list of occupations.

Harry stood up and began to speak.

"Thanks for deciding to meet with us," he said. "I know that we usually don't work together, but the Order assigned me this case and I requested to work with all of you, seeing as you have an impressive criminal catch record."

Pansy cocked an eyebrow. "Why did the Order assign something to you?"

"It involves Bellatrix Lestrange," Draco said, looking over at her. "And Harry's in the order."

"I guess they thought it just deemed appropriate," Harry continued. Pansy smiled. If it involved Bellatrix, then no wonder he wanted in on this case. He's in it for revenge, Pansy thought.

"Where do we start?" Neville asked.

"We start…" Harry said, turning his gaze to Draco. "With Narcissa Malfoy."

"Where is dear old Narcissa these days?" Pansy asked. She had spent many summer months at the Malfoy Manor with Draco, during which she had met his mother Narcissa, who treated her like her own daughter, taking to her very nicely. She looked at Draco and smiled, wondering if he was sharing the same memory as her at this very moment, the one in the lake, the first time they went skinny dipping together, summer after third year…

Draco did look pensive, but when he opened his mouth, he had something else on his mind.

"You know Harry, we should get Pansy to do it," he said. Pansy sat up, shocked out of her daydream.

"Do what, Draco?" asked Harry.

"Talk to my mum. She loves Pansy, I bet she could get her to talk better than I ever could."

Pansy sat with her mouth open, at a loss for words. _Her_? The thought made her nervous and excited; it would be the first big case for her where she actually got to play a lead role.

"Really, Pansy?" Harry asked. Pansy shrugged.

"Come on," said Draco. "You have to admit that she loves you!"

I want it to be you who loves me, Pansy thought to herself, but she just nodded.

"I'll do it," she agreed.

When the meeting ended and everyone stood up to leave, Pansy kept looking at Draco, scowling as she watched him ruffle Ron's hair, the two of them trying to be inconspicuous. Pansy narrowed her eyes and followed the couple into the hallway.

"Hey Draco," she called. The pair turned around and Ron shot Pansy a curious look. She shoved past him and stood in front of Draco.

"Thanks for dumping that entire case on me," she said, flipping her hair. "Now you really _do_ owe me a date."

"What?" said Ron.

Pansy looked at him. "Draco and I are just going to have a little fun, that's all, right Draco?" She said, looking up at him.

"Er…Pansy…now isn't the right time…" Draco started.

"Right time for what?" Ron said, this time a little louder and more heated.

"Don't worry Ron," Pansy said. "Draco and I just want to catch up on a few things, that's all."

She smirked at the redhead before turning on her heels and walking away, leaving the two at a standstill, smiling at her own incredulous behavior.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter Four

"What did she bloody mean, Draco?"

Draco scowled at his own stupidity as he entered his apartment. Why did he have to fall for Pansy's stupid little antics? He didn't even feel anything for her, yet he played into her flirtations like it was any old game. They weren't children anymore—he didn't need her to feel important.

Ron was so close behind him that he could feel his hot breath on his neck. His eyes were flashing angrily, staring down the back of Draco's blonde head.

"Calm down," Draco said, turning around and staring back at Ron, a little put off at the unfamiliar expression on his face. He had seen Ron agitated before, but he had never seen him _angry_, and especially not at _him_.

"Don't tell me to calm down," Ron said, slamming the door, making Draco jump a little, but the blonde's gaze didn't waver. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"It doesn't mean anything Ron."

Ron shook his head. "Then tell me what happened."

Draco's heart was beating so fast that he couldn't open his mouth, and his nostrils flared as he tried to draw in breath.

"Nothing happened."

Ron scoffed, folding his arms. "Well, I would bloody hope not," he said quietly, fear suddenly entering his eyes. Draco sighed. Ron is just afraid of losing me, Draco thought. But that's ridiculous. He was _Draco Malfoy_, after all. He knew what he wanted—if he didn't want Ron, he wouldn't be with him anymore.

Ron sauntered across the room and leaned against the dressed, a sharp glare still flickering in his eye. Draco sat down on the bed.

"So can you tell me what she meant?" asked Ron. He didn't sound as hysterical anymore, just upset, nearly worried or anxious.

Draco nodded. "She just asked me if I would like to get together with her some time." He looked up at Ron hesitantly, who looked away, his arms still crossed, his back and neck stiff.

"Well, why did she ask you that?"

"We do work together," Draco said. "I suppose she just wants our friendship to be what it used to be, since we're together so much now."

"Ha!" Ron scoffed. "I think it's a little more than friendship she wants!"

"I dumped Pansy for a reason, you know."

"Yeah, but before you know it you'll be hanging around each other, reflecting on old times, feeling that familiar comfort…"

"Right, Ron. That's exactly what will happen. And then I'll leave you for nosey, irritating, irrational, attention-starved little Pansy Parkinson."

Ron grunted, aggravated still, but Draco recognized that he was beginning to calm down. He walked over and sat down on the bed beside Ron.

"You swear there's nothing going on between you two?" he asked.

"I swear on my job that there is absolutely nothing going on between Pansy and I save the pathetic fantasies in Pansy's demented little head."

"Don't swear on your job, Draco. Swear on your love for me."

"Ugh, Ron," Draco groaned.

"Say it," Ron egged on, grinning in amusement. Even though he and Draco had been together for so long, he hardly heard the words "I love you" coming from his lover. Draco was just much more for actions than words.

"Okay," Draco said, sighing. "I love you, Ron."

His gray eyes gleamed as he turned to look into Ron's eyes, and they grinned at each other.

"Now that wasn't so hard," Ron said, taking Draco's hand. "Now come on, I'm starving."

---

Saturday morning was as misty and humid as mating Dementors, and Fred woke up on George's bed, the rosy-haired girl sleeping on his arm. He grimaced and pulled his arm out from under her. Poor George, he thought, I'll have to wash his sheets. Fred pulled on his boxers and stood up, scratching his stomach and yawning. It couldn't be past seven in the morning, and a sure flick of the wand reinforced that it was only 6:49 a.m. Fred went into the kitchen, glancing over at the couch and noting that George and his girl lay cuddled up together. He shook his head and grabbed a jug of milk out of the fridge. He pointed his wand at the cupboard.

"Accio breakfast," he muttered, and poured the cereal into a bowl. He ate at the table by himself, trying to clear his head. He had that dreadful dinner tonight, a stranger in his bed. George began to stir so Fred to give him privacy to let the girl down gently. When Fred got back to the bedroom the girl was still sleeping, so he sat on the bed and rubbed her back gently, let his fingers travel down the length of his spine, her skin hot against his fingers. She smiled and opened her eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Seven."

"Ugh, early!" she groaned. "Ouch, my head." She sat up in bed, one of Fred's t-shirts hanging off her loosely, and he grimaced knowing that he would probably never get the stupid thing back, what with it probably being so sentimental to her and all. Girls, he thought, are so predictable.

She put her palms on her forehead and closed her eyes.

"I'll make you some tea," he said, leaving again. He wasn't a complete monster.

George walked over to his brother, glanced at the tea.

"Good idea," he said. Fred smirked.

"Is your girl as hung over as mine?"

"Girl?" George snorted. "Who cares? _My_ hangover is catastrophic."

George stirred his tea, staring off into space.

"What are we going to wear?" he asked. Fred shrugged and walked back into the bedroom, holding the hot tea in his hands.

"Oh, thank you," she said, taking the tea. "I feel so sick."

"Sorry," Fred said, pulling on a shirt.

"My name is Mary, by the way," she said. Fred looked over at her and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Mary."

She finished her tea and stood up, and to his surprise stripped off his shirt and pulling on the one she wore last night. She even folded his and placed it on the bed.

"Maybe I'll see you around, Fred," Mary said, and with a quick peck on the cheek she was out the door.

George ran into the bedroom. "They're gone."

"They are."

"Yeah," he grinned. He took a look at Fred's outfit quizzically. "You're not wearing _that_, are you?"

"Why, what's wrong with it?"

"It has a hole in the sleeve!"

"Bloody hell, George," Fred muttered, throwing his shirt off and sitting on the bed. "Do you know who all is going tonight?"

George scratched his head and took a sip of his tea.

"Okay, thanks then," Fred mocked. He turned to the window just in time to see a little brown owl sitting there—his mother's owl—and he crossed the room to open the window, hand the own a knut, and remove the parchment attached to its leg.

"From mum?" George asked nonchalantly.

"Mhm," Fred murmured. "Just reminding us to come tonight."

"Should we write her back or leave her in suspense?"

Fred smirked. "We might as well write her before she has a heart attack."

George nodded. "Well I suppose it won't be too bad tonight. I mean, there'll be enough people to divert our attention, like—"

"Charlie and Bill."

"Ginny's bringing Harry."

"Hermione might as well be there."

"And Ron."

"Ron might bring Malfoy."

"Ron never brings Malfoy, according to Harry."

"Pity," Fred smirked. According to Harry and Hermione, Draco wasn't as upsetting as he used to be, but Fred hadn't seen him in a while; not since their years at Hogwarts. He subconsciously ignored the situation—all that awkward Quidditch past and all that happened seventh year…

"We did forget someone," George mused, interrupting Fred's thoughts.

"Really? Who?"

"Fleur."

"Oh, how my heart flutters!" Fred feigned, clutching his chest.

George grinned. "Maybe this dinner won't be too horrible, after all."

---

Pansy massaged the lavender shampoo into her hair, humming to herself. She let out a surprised gasp when she glanced at her forearm, then rolled her eyes and picked up the soap. The Dark Mark still frightened her sometimes, like she feared that the evil emblem would come to life on her skin again, the snake moving through the skull, calling her…

Pansy thought suddenly of Draco's own mark, the one that had been forced on him when he was only 15. These permanent marks didn't only represent their service to the late Dark Lord; they were a symbol of how much alike she and Draco were. The similarities were monumental. They both came from rich, pureblood families, their parents were both former Death Eaters, they had both been in Slytherin…

The only reason Draco likes Ron is because he's pureblood, Pansy figured.

She rinsed her hair and stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her head and body. Finally, she thought, I can contact Bellatrix. She had come so close so many times—in fact, she was the one who caused Harry and the others to trip up on catching her, by causing freak accidents or false leads. Now that she could talk to Narcissa, she could find out about Bellatrix and they could pick up where the Dark Lord left off.

Pansy smiled, cradling the mark. The only thing she had to do now was convince Draco. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, she thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

Chapter Five

"How do I look?" Draco held out his arms and turned around slowly. Ron drew a quick intake of breath—he couldn't stop smiling. Draco looked _hot_.

"Good," Ron managed to choke out. Draco stopped turning, lowered his arms, and smiled. He had his hair neatly parted in the middle and combed so that it tucked behind his ears, a conservative look that only Draco could make appear sexy. He wore dark green dress robes and a green and silver striped tie. Ron smirked.

"Technically though, if I may point out, you're not really a Slytherin anymore," he commented. Draco snorted.

"I'll change my tie."

"Good idea."

As Draco changed into a light blue tie, he watched as Ron fussed over his hair in the mirror, trying to comb down a cowlick.

"Damn, I wish I was a metamorphmagus…" he mumbled.

"Just tie it back," Draco said.

"Bother…you do it."

"I don't know how, I've never had my hair that long."

Ron groaned, frowning at himself in the mirror.

"You look fine," said Draco. "_I'm_ the one who has to make a good first impression, remember?"

Ron glanced at the clock.

"Oh no! It's 6:52! We have to hurry!" Ron grabbed Draco's hand and they apparated together. Draco closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were standing outside the Burrow. Wow, Draco thought. The Burrow was located on a farm, in a small rural area a few miles away from the city. The first thing he noticed was how big yet cozy the house looked, the light from inside casting a warm glow on the front lawn. There was a small garden, with carrots and such, and the grass was high around their ankles. It shortened as they walked up the front walk and the couple turned to each other, grinning nervously.

Ron rang the doorbell.

"Oh, someone's here!" an anxious voice, a woman's voice, crowed from inside. Draco took a deep breath and a plump redheaded woman wearing a long flowery dress opened the door.

"Ron, dear!" she said, reaching up and kissing Ron on the cheek before shooing the pair inside.

"Hey mum, you remember Draco Malfoy," Ron said, glancing back at Draco. "My boyfriend."

Mrs. Weasley looked Draco up and down, trying to smile, but Draco could tell that it was hard; Malfoy and Weasley were never two surnames thrown together nicely. But Draco leaned down and gave Ron's mother a hug.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley," he said.

"Oh!" she blushed, surprised at his embrace. She pulled away to close the front door. "Call me Molly. You _are_ a handsome boy." She smiled now, genuinely. "Come on, come on, I want you to meet the rest of the family…"

"Good move," Ron whispered. Draco just winked at him and followed Molly into the dining room.

"Hey Draco," Harry stood up and handed Draco a glass of wine. "I'm glad you could make it this time."

'Nice to see you, Harry," Draco said, taking a sip of his drink.

A tall redheaded man with streaks of gray waltzed into the kitchen, stopping short when he saw Draco. Draco walked over to him and held out a hand.

"Draco Malfoy, sir. It's nice to see you again."

Arthur Weasley took the hand hesitantly.

"Likewise Draco, likewise…" Arthur said. "I'm sorry…you just…"

"I look just like my father?" Draco answered for him.

"Well…yes…I'm sorry…"

"Hosh posh!" Molly exclaimed, taking Draco's hand and pulling him back over to the table. "He's much better looking and polite than Lucius, no offense Draco, dear…now, you remember Ginny…"

"Of course I do," said Draco. Ginny eyed him curiously, standing up and taking Draco's hand. She's grown up, Draco thought. Ginny had waist-length curly strawberry blonde hair, a lighter shade than she had worn at Hogwarts, and she was at least 5'9 now, as height apparently ran in the family.

"I'll talk to _you_ later," Ginny whispered, withdrawing her hand and smirking slightly.

"About what?" Draco laughed. But before she could answer, Molly stepped in again.

"Draco, these are my three eldest sons: Bill, Charlie, and Percy."

"I know Percy," Draco said, shaking his hand. Percy's beady eyes narrowed at Draco and Draco let go, diverting his attention to one of Ron's less creepy brothers. Charlie had short kinky red hair and a soul patch. When he smiled he had cute little dimples and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"It's a delight to meet you, Draco," he said, his handshake firm. Bill cut in and took Draco's hand.

"Likewise, it's a pleasure," Bill said. He had deep red hair that fell nearly as long as Ginny's and he kept it tied back in a long ponytail.

"Molly!" a voice called from the kitchen. "'Veel you come help me in 'ze keetchin!"

Molly rolled her eyes and excused herself.

"Fleur's here?" Ron said, wide-eyed. "Excuse me…" and with that, he walked past everyone and went into the kitchen with Molly.

"Fleur's my wife," Bill explained, and just as he did so, a marvelous young woman with silvery blonde hair and blue eyes came gliding into the dining room, holding a hot plate of goodies, Molly following with her own plate and Ron staring googly-eyed at Fleur.

"Oh! You must 've Draco!" Fleur set down her plate and kissed Draco on the lips. "Ron 'az told me all about you, just now, in 'zee keetchin! But Ron, you deed not tell me zat Draco eez 'alf Veela like me!"

"I'm not," Draco said.

"Oh, 'zen you are naturally beautiful!"

Draco smiled just as another girl came out of the kitchen—she had long brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Hey Draco, I didn't know you were coming." It was Hermione, who set her plate down and gave Draco a half-hearted hug. Hermione supported Ron's decision to date Draco, but he figured she still felt uncomfortable around him, what with all the former "mudblood" bantering. Hermione worked as a House Elf Rights Activist and part time Arithmancy Professor at Hogwarts.

Molly sighed. "Well, I guess that's everyone. We'd better sit down before the food gets cold. I just wish…I could have sworn that…"

Arthur put an arm around his wife. "Maybe next year Molly. You never know with those two…"

All of a sudden, a loud _Crack!_ made everyone jump and two identical ginger-haired boys appeared in the middle of the dining room. The room burst in commotion as Ginny and Molly came rushing over to hug Fred and George Weasley.

"Hey!" They said in unison.

"Oh, you two gave me a fright! I didn't think you'd come!" Molly said, wiping little tears of joy from her eyes.

"We told you we would, mum!" One of them said.

Jesus, Draco thought, how the hell do they tell them apart? The Weasley twins wore matching red and white striped sweaters with khaki pants, their hair parted the same; they favored their siblings, but a little something extra special twinkled in their eyes, especially the one on the right…

Suddenly, Draco remembered his last encounter with Fred Weasley during his fifth year, when he had gotten the crap beaten out of him after a Quidditch match…

The one on the right let his eyes fall on Draco and kept them there, and Draco wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Self conscious for the first time in a long while, Draco said short hellos to Fred and George before sitting down to eat.

---

The family couldn't stop talking about how happy they were that the twins had decided to attend the dinner. Fred noticed that Percy kept shooting them evil glances; apparently, he had not received as warm a welcome when he began to attend dinners. They were thrown the usual questions:

"How's the shop?"

"Dating anyone?"

"Honestly you two, when are you going to cut your hair?"

Fred smirked and shoved a forkful of potatoes in his mouth. He dropped his grin when he looked across the table and saw that Draco was staring at him. The blonde blushed and looked down at his plate of food. Fred couldn't help but smirk again. It was strange that Draco was dining with the same people that he used to throw relentless insults at. He _did_ look different, Fred thought. He no longer wore his hair slicked back, and he had a softer look in his eyes. Yet he looks stronger somehow, Fred thought, more mature.

"Fred!" Ginny yelled.

"Yeah?"

"I've been calling your name for two minutes! Pass the corn!"

Fred sat up and passed the corn, but not before shooting Draco another glance, who was looking at him again. Draco smiled, and Fred smiled back.

"So Malfoy," Fred said.

"It's Draco!" Ron snarled.

"Sorry, old habits die hard. So, Draco…now see, that's just weird."

"Call me Malfoy," Draco said, his gray eyes looking steadily at Fred's now.

"What do you do at the Ministry, Malfoy?" Fred asked. Draco leaned forward and raised an eyebrow.

"Top secret," he said.

"Draco doe…important…Auror-type…work," Ron said slowly.

"Impressive," Arthur said, smiling warmly at Draco.  
"Thank you, sir."

"You know, I found the strangest Muggle toy today…" Arthur began to say. Fred zoned out; he didn't mean to, but he was transfixed by the neck muscles of Draco as he swallowed, the pale angelic face, the slight smirk that played on his soft, pink lips…

"JESUS FRED, ARE YOU DEAF!" Ginny yelled.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind," Ginny said exasperatedly, reaching over and grabbing the salt. Fred shrugged and cleaned his plate. He hadn't had a good meal in a while.

"Are you all staying the night?" Molly asked as she cleared the dishes. Hermione, Harry and Ginny had to go home, but the rest opted to stay.

"Jesus, is there enough room for ten people?" Percy asked.

"There always was before. Well, nine at least," Arthur said.

Fleur and Bill helped Molly set out blankets for the living room. Fleur and Bill stayed in the room that Bill, Charlie, and Percy used to share, Charlie and Percy stayed in Ron and Ginny's old room, Fred and George in their own room, and Draco and Ron volunteered to sleep in the living room. Draco thanked them for setting up their bed and Fred watched the whimsical blonde step outside. Fred, curious, slipped out of the conversation he was having with Charlie and Bill about dragon transportation and followed Draco outside. He was standing on the front walk, smoking a cigarette. He turned to look at Fred, who grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring up into the night sky.

"Want one?" Draco offered, holding out his pack.

"No thanks," Fred said, "I'm more of a drinker."

"Should've known that," Draco said, placing the cigarettes back into his pocket.

"So. You and Ron," Fred said. "Strange."

Draco shot him a look.

"Come on. You have to admit that it was unexpected."

Draco shrugged and looked away. He blew a dragon of smoke from between his lips and it turned to growl at Fred.

"Neat party trick," Fred grinned.

The front door opened and Ron stepped out.

"Hey, uh, when you two are ready to come in, Fleur made dessert," he said, his eyes looking anxious and excited. Fred stepped inside with his brother. Hermione and the others were right about Draco, he supposed. He wasn't _nice_, but he wasn't necessarily unpleasant. And he had a sort of ethereal appearance that Fred usually liked in _girls_, he realized. But Draco was definitely not a girl. He was a boy—no, a _man_, and a gay one at that. Still, he couldn't shake the strange attraction that he had initially felt when he laid eyes on Draco Malfoy this evening.

---

Pansy wouldn't meet Narcissa until next week, when she and the rest of the Righteous, plus Harry and Ron, would go to her living quarters and barrage her with questions about the whereabouts of Bellatrix Lestrange. She sat in her living room with a glass of wine in one hand. She could be fucking Draco right now, she thought. Draco wasn't the only man Pansy had slept with, but he was certainly the only man she never grew tired of. There are Blaise, in her fifth year, when she and Draco had had an argument over who got to be the head of the Inquisitorial Squad, but a few boring screws with Blaise had sent her crawling back to Draco. Draco was just…

What was he? He wasn't a gentle lover, Pansy knew. Plenty of times she came out of bed with him and she looked like she had come out of a gruesome battle, blood dripping from bites in her neck and scratches on her arms. She even had a scar on her inner thigh from his teeth marks. And he definitely wasn't quick. Draco would do her for as long as he wanted, and then he would do her some more, ensuring that she reached her orgasm. This wasn't out of consideration though, she knew, it was because he wanted her to know he was the best.

Well, sitting alone on the couch drinking her wine and watching the fire spark, she knew it now. And she wished she could apparate to wherever he was, whoever he was with, and have him one more time. She liked to tell herself that she was seducing Draco because she wanted him on her and Bellatrix's side, but she knew in her heart that it was because she missed him, and she wanted him back.

And she would do whatever it took.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter Six**

The night settled down around 11, when most of the party retreated to bed. Draco, Ron, and the twins, however, sat in the living room together, drinking tea and watching the fire.

Draco's heart felt light. Fred's hair draped over one side of his face, and he could tell the twins apart now because he noticed that Fred's mane was shaggier and touched his shoulders, while George's was a bit straighter and not quite as long. His brown eyes flickered with the heat of the blazing fire and Draco knew that he hadn't felt this way since he and Ron had first started getting together. He watched Fred's lips as they touched his cup, his sly grin as he laughed at something George or Ron said. Draco knew he was being quiet, but he couldn't think of anything to say. When Ron placed a finger on Draco's hand, Draco felt nothing. Jesus Christ, he thought. He pretended that it was Fred's finger on his hand and suddenly his heart warmed up. He closed his eyes and smiled, feeling the fingers trace his wrist, up his arm, touching his elbow…

Suddenly he felt the finger leave and the warmth of Ron's touch disappeared. He opened his eyes and looked at Ron, who grinned slyly and leaned forward to kiss Draco.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Draco asked, backing away. "Your brothers."

Ron smirked. "Um, Draco? Fred and George went upstairs."

Draco frowned and looked around; Fred and George were gone. Ron leaned forward again and traced Draco's jaw with his lips. Oh no, here it comes, Draco thought. Jesus, what was wrong with him? Usually when Ron made a move, it was monumental. Draco was always the assertive one. But now, for some reason, Draco didn't even feel it. He closed his eyes and imagined that it wasn't Ron who was touching him, but Fred. And then he wondered if Fred would feel anything like Ron. Ron touched Draco's lips—_Fred_ touched Draco's lips, and Draco licked them, placing his tongue in Fred's mouth. He lay down on top of Fred, putting his hand up his shirt and touching the fair, smooth skin there. He had a tone stomach, and he twitched when Draco placed a hand on his side.

"Draco," Ron said, releasing his lips from Draco's hungry mouth. "We have to be quiet."

Draco nodded and resumed kissing Fred. He placed his hands on his wrists, trapping him to the ground so that he couldn't move, and made a trail down his neck, biting his shoulder. Fred moaned quietly and writhed beneath him, but Draco only bit harder and moved down to Fred's chest, moving his wrists together and holding them with one hand while unbuttoning Fred's shirt with the other. He licked Fred's stomach, never opening his eyes. If he kept his eyes closed, he could imagine what Fred looked like without a shirt. His stomach was lean, the muscles chiseled, but his skin soft and warm. Draco nuzzled that stomach, rubbed his face against the place just above the button of Fred's pants, his hair tickling Fred's stomach. Draco unbuttoned Fred's pants with his teeth, and he gasped as Draco let go of his arms and pulled his pants off.

"Do you want—" Ron started, but Draco shushed him and trapped his hands again as soon as his pants were off. He reached through the hole in Fred's boxers with his tongue and felt the hard erection there, taking the head in his mouth. Fred groaned, a low noise that came from the bottom of his stomach, and his hips bucked, reaching up so that Draco could swallow more of him. He sucked hard, listening to Fred's quiet moans. Fred's body shook and Draco became hard at the thought of pleasuring Fred so much, at the way he struggled to remain quiet under the delight of Draco's lips and tongue.

Fred breathed hard, his wrists twisting slightly, but Draco was stronger than him and more in control.

"Let me fuck you," Ron said. Draco just sucked harder and Fred moaned loudly.

"Be quiet," Draco said, although he loved the sound of it. Fred moaned again, this time much quieter.

"Please, let me fuck you," Ron whispered. Draco held Fred's wrists with one strong hand and grabbed Fred's cock with his other, massaging his shaft up and down, taking Fred's balls in his mouth.

"I think I'm about to cum," Ron murmured breathily. Draco stopped and lifted his head away from Fred's cock, eyes still closed tightly. He traced the veins in Fred's cock, bit his stomach. Fred grunted, trying to release himself from Draco's grip, but Draco refused to relent. He tightened his grip and pressed Fred's hands harder to the floor.

"Draco," Ron whispered. "Please…let me cum…"

He imagined Fred's deep voice saying this to him, his hair moistly matted to the side of his face, his long legs wrapped around his own. Draco pulled away and lay on top of Fred, kissing his lips. Fred sighed and put his arms around Draco, his hands finally free. Draco pulled away and turned Fred over, pulling down his boxers. He pulled down his own pants and put his cock in his hand, placing it against Fred's backside and slowly beginning to enter him. He reached around and grabbed Fred's cock, stroking it slowly and teasingly as he pushed into Fred, a gasp escaping his lover's throat.

Draco pushed into Fred all the way; it felt amazing, Fred was so tight, warm, enveloping his cock, taking it in…

Draco thrust into Fred, placing his hands on his smooth back, drawing his nails against his skin. He reached down and bit Fred's side, pulling him closer, causing Fred to moan in a mix of pain and amazement. Draco dug his nails deeper into Fred's back, Fred pushing harder against Draco. Draco was never rough with Ron—Ron was gentle, kind. He made love to Ron, he was slow with Ron, and he never did Ron from behind because Ron always wanted to see his face, to kiss him, to nuzzle him…

But Fred wanted this. Fred wanted Draco to hurt him, wanted him to make scars along his back, wanted him to bite him until he bled. And this was who Draco really was. Draco had animalistic needs, he was not merciful, he came to take what he wanted and give it to whoever was screaming his name. It had been Pansy once. It had been plenty of girls. But they had all bored him. Now he was giving it to Fred.

"Ouch, Draco!" Ron yelled, pulling away suddenly. Suddenly, Draco opened his eyes and looked down at Ron. He remembered that it was not Fred, and humiliated, he pulled out of Ron, staring down wincingly at the deep red gashes he had made in Ron's side, the long scratch marks down his back. Ron turned around and looked up at Draco, frightened and overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry…" Draco muttered, unable to look Ron in the eyes. "I got carried away."

He quickly pulled his pants back on and crawled beneath the covers, turning away from Ron. Dumbfounded, Ron pulled on his clothes and crawled over to Draco. He leaned down and kissed Draco on the cheek.

"That's okay mate," he whispered. "It was still great."

Draco felt Ron curl up next to him and wrap an arm around his waist, and just like before, he found himself imagining that it was Fred there, his tall warm body embracing him.

---

A musky scent overwhelmed him. He was breathing heavily, sweating, his hair wet against his face, his neck. His cock rubbing against his lover's, his teeth nibbling on delicate skin, strong hands grabbing the back of his head and pulling his lips to those that were pink and soft. He opened his eyes and looked into those that were icy gray, fingernails on his back, moans escaping from his parted lips, a moist, warm tongue feeling the inside of his mouth.

"Draco," his body moaned. "Draco." He ached in pleasure, pressing harder against the blonde vixen. Draco growled and rolled on top of him, biting his lip hard, hard enough to draw blood, the pain a cold shock that electrified him, alerted him, made him release with three powerful shots, warm and amazing and…

Fred opened his eyes. He was sweaty, his cock in his hand, cum all over his fingers and sheets. He sighed and looked over at his brother, who was still sound asleep. Thank God, he thought. He thought hard about his dream, trying to savor it, trying to remember the beautiful blonde who had appeared in it, who had trapped him, tore at him, released him…

Draco Malfoy.

Fred sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding. _Draco Malfoy? _No, it couldn't have been. He wouldn't dream about his brother's boyfriend. He wouldn't dream about a _guy_, for that matter. But who else could the icy gray eyes belong to? The white-blonde hair? The hard muscles and the…

The hard cock. He had felt it against his, rubbing and teasing and begging. No girl he had ever fucked had one of those, Fred thought painfully. No girl he had ever fucked made him cum so hard, either, and this was only a dream.

Fred shook his head and lay back down, not even bothering to change the sheets. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. He was not especially tired anymore, his thoughts whizzing with images of Draco's strong body, hypnotic stare, brisk air. He looked at the clock—it was three in the morning. He had an idea.

He stepped out of bed, the floor squeaking, and looked over at his brother. No movement. He shook his head and continued to move toward the door. Slowly, he opened the door to the room he and his brother shared, stepped out into the hallway, and closed it behind him. He could barely make out the downstairs living room, the dim light of the fire that was leisurely burning out. He looked down at himself—Fred wasn't much for clothing when he slept, even if he was sleeping alone, so he only wore striped boxers and socks. He shrugged and headed downstairs—nothing Draco had never seen before, he supposed. He kept his eyes on the stairs, trying to avoid the parts that squeaked that he had studied so well during his scandalous teenager days. That's why he didn't notice that blonde sitting at the kitchen table until he reached the floor and looked up. He caught his breath—there sat Draco, slouched over in a chair, staring up at Fred with cold gray eyes. Something flickered in them as Fred stood motionless, surprised, staring back at him. He tried to grin and ran a hand through his hair, and motioned for the fridge.

"Just uh…just getting a drink," Fred said, his voice dry. He coughed and headed over toward the fridge, awkwardly grabbing a fruit juice out of the fridge. He cautiously looked back over at Draco, who had not said anything, but had sat up straighter and crossed his arms, gazing down sleepily at the table.

Fred leaned against the fridge, and calming down a little, replaced the juice box with a beer. He felt more relaxed now that Draco wasn't looking at him, that Draco didn't have that intimidating stare.

"Can't sleep," Draco said, glancing over at Fred. His cheeks turned red and he quickly looked away, shaking his head.

"Me neither," Fred said. He suddenly became aware of the dream he had just had, of Draco's naked body. It was there right in front of him, underneath the t-shirt and boxers Draco wore. His hair was sticking up in strange places and his eyes looked dark and strained—for once, Draco didn't look pretty, he didn't look flawless, he wasn't the same perfect little Draco that Fred had always seen. But for Fred, this vulnerability made him seem even more beautiful. Maybe it was because he appeared human now—or maybe it was because he had chosen to appear human before Fred Weasley of all people.

Draco scratched his head and smiled weakly up at Fred.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked.

Fred gulped and set down his beer. His hands were shaking. He had an urge to run away and an urge to obey, and he didn't know which one was stronger. But he sucked it up—he didn't want to seem weird around Draco. They were two grown men, mutual acquaintances he figured, who couldn't sleep. What was wrong with enjoying his company?

"Sure."

Outside, the air was humid with a slight chill, but neither of the boys had chosen to throw on a robe. Draco smoked quietly while Fred walked along side him, glancing sideways at him every now and then. They circled around to the back of the house. Fred watched Draco's cheeks sink into his face as he inhaled, and the flower-shaped lips of his mouth as he blew out smoke. A sleepy snake of smoke merely rattled at Fred, then closed its eyes and coiled up. Fred grinned.

"Can I ask you something?" Draco said.

"If you must."

Draco put out his cigarette, stomping it on the ground with his bare foot. "Do you really think it's odd?"

"What's odd?"

Draco paused. "Ron and I."

"Are you fussing over that?" Fred said, a bit amused. "I didn't mean it in a derogatory sense. I'm perfectly fine with…"

The word stuck in his throat. He knew what he wanted to say. Gay, he thought. I am perfectly fine with being _gay_.

"It's just, Ron and you," Fred continued. "It's just a strange turn of events, that's all."

Draco nodded. "I guess you wouldn't really expect it, not looking at things that way."

"You have to love in order to hate," Fred said.

"Potter," Draco snorted.

"You two friends now?" Fred asked. He had seen the way Harry greeted him today, and they seemed fine.

"Hogwarts was a long time ago," Draco said, his voice suddenly softening. "You don't know how many things I regret. You don't know how much I went through, with my father. The pressure…to follow in his footsteps…"

"Don't worry about it mate," Fred said, sensing the strange tension in Draco's words. He stopped to look the blonde in the face, to reassure him, but he was again struck by his ethereal beauty. The glistening eyes, ones that bore into you, the striking face, the blonde angelic hair that hung straight over his face. Without thinking, Fred reached up and tucked Draco's hair behind his ear, then stopped suddenly and stared dumbly at Draco, embarrassed by what he had just done.

"Thanks," Draco whispered, and then he turned and began to walk again. Fred followed slowly and watched Draco take out another cigarette.

"You're not like Ron, you know," Draco said after a short while. Fred smirked.

"Don't I know it."

"Your joke shop going well?" Draco asked.

"Fine. Same old, same old. People love their pranks," Fred said, smiling a little.

"How long are you staying here?" Draco asked. Fred shrugged. "Ron and I are staying the weekend."

He looked at Fred, his eyes wide. "Might be nice if you and George hung around."

"Yeah, uh…maybe," Fred said.

"Well, I have to go inside," Draco said. "Ron will wake up and wonder where I've gone off to. He might get jealous."

"Why would Ron get jealous?" Fred asked, laughing a little. Draco quickly stepped forward and ran a soft hand across Fred's cheek—Fred froze.

"I'm a sucker for a Weasley," Draco said, smirking, and he went inside, leaving Fred alone, dumbfounded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter Seven**

"Git. That's what you are."

Draco stared at his reflection in the mirror—a habit he had grown into from being so terribly blonde and good-looking, but lately he didn't like what he saw.

"Just a complete idiot."

First Pansy, and now Fred? What was getting into Draco? He closed his eyes, trying to block his face out of his mind, but all he could see now was Fred's.

"Nah!" he yelled agitatedly, seating himself down on the linoleum floor. There was a knock on the door and he looked up warily as it opened and Ron walked in.

"Draco?" he said, looking down at his boyfriend. "Are you okay?" He was wearing a worried expression and his hair was matted down in strange places from bedhead. Draco didn't blame him—he didn't look so hot either, his eyes red and droopy, stinging with lack of sleep.

"What are you doing here? It's three o'clock in the morning."

"Uh…"

"Did you get sick?"

"Uh…I'm fine. I just needed to use the bathroom and I guess I fell asleep up here."

"Oh," Ron said, still looking a bit wary. "Okay then. Um, I'm going back to bed, so…"

"Yeah, yeah," Draco mumbled, blinking, his eyelids heavy. "I'll be down soon."

"All right then."

Draco waited until Ron left to stand up and close the door, lock it, stuff the opening under the door with a towel, and take out a cigarette. Despite how much his eyes hurt, his mind was too busy to sleep. There was no way he could be calm; he didn't want to think of how he had betrayed Ron again, but he couldn't stop the excitement he also felt from it. Fred was so…

Different, Draco thought, taking a drag. God, how embarrassing would breakfast be the next morning? I'm a sucker for a Weasley? What the hell kind of line was that, anyway?

He scowled and took a long drag, coughing at the potent taste, the smoke nothing but a sagging snake skin.

Eventually, Draco finished his business upstairs in the bathroom (which included five cigarettes and a piss) and silently descended the stairs, lying beside Ron on the floor. To his surprise, his eyes fell shut as soon as his head hit the pillow and he fell into a deep, black sleep.

Clinging pots and pans and running water was the next thing Draco was aware of as he was stirred out of the sleep to the sound of Molly preparing breakfast. He could smell bacon and eggs and he rubbed his eyes, looking around. Ron was still snoring soundly beside him and he poked Ron in the side, causing the redhead to stir jaggedly.

"Wake up, Ron."

"What…uhhh…" Ron turned over, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, and snored up into Draco's face. Draco rolled his eyes and lay back down, staring upside down at the Grandfather Clock on the wall—half past seven. He elbowed Ron in the side, surprised at his aggression. He usually woke Ron up by kissing him on the cheek or slightly nudging his side; now he was turning Ron black and blue.

"Ouch, Draco," Ron said, sitting up and rubbing his ribs. "I'm up, I'm up…prat…"

"I'm going to use the bathroom," Draco announced, standing up and saying hello to Molly as he passed. On his way up the stairs he ran into Percy, who shot him a look and frowned slightly. No matter—Percy's hair looked kinky anyway and he wore a strange nightgown, so he couldn't make Draco feel any weirder than he already did. He kept his eyes locked on the bathroom, and when he got to the floor a tall redhead came out of a bedroom. He smiled in a friendly manner when he saw Draco.

"Morning," Fred said. "You can go first."

"Thanks," Draco didn't even hesitate and swiftly made his way into the bathroom, immediately locking it and running water over his long hair, trying to straighten out the strange bumps and washing his face to get the sleepy out of his eyes. He straightened his pajamas and went back out into the hall, face to face with—

"Hey George," an identical twin came out of the same bedroom and stopped when he saw Draco, blushing a little. It had not been Fred at all, but George Weasley, and now Fred stood before him in blue train pajamas and Draco suddenly felt very silly in his own nighties.

"Nice night?" Draco asked, shifting his eyes to George and backing away.

"Oh yeah, I'll say," George winked. Draco shot Fred a look and Fred rolled his eyes.

"George here had a little adventure last night," Fred explained.

"Oh. Shagging expedition," Draco said. George chucked.

"An expedition indeed," he winked again and proceeded into the bathroom, leaving Draco and Fred alone in the hall. Draco felt himself go stiff—in all the wrong places—and he blushed. Just looking at Fred, his shaggy red hair that was so alike to Ron's and yet so different, his feral grin, his toned arms…

Draco was about to run off when he noticed that Fred was not looking away from him, and that neither boy made any move to unlock their gazes. Draco's breathing became heavier as he felt himself stand at full attention, and he saw Fred's eyes shift down to his own groin.

"Well," Fred said. "This is embarrassing."

Draco stepped forward a bit, only a tiny bit, but it was all he needed to do for Fred to take his own step, and eventually the boys were close enough to each other to kiss. Fred nuzzled his lips into Draco's hair and Draco melted, hungrily nibbling on Fred's neck, placing his hands down the redhead's pants and grabbing his erection.

"Whoa," Fred whispered, backing away. "I—"

The bathroom door opened and Draco jumped back, turning around, and walked downstairs before he had to see another Weasley twin. At least downstairs his attention would be spread out among the others. He felt a pang of guilt when Ron smiled at him and patted the seat of the chair beside him. Draco sat down, trying to take deep breaths and act as if nothing had happened, but as soon as he saw Fred and George his erection came back to life. All he could think about throughout the entire breakfast was the way Fred had made him feel so achingly pleasured in only that brief moment they had had together, when he felt Fred's skin against him, the hardness in his hand…

"We were thinking of going to Hogsmeade today," Arthur said. "Make a day of it. What do you all think?"

"Sounds like fun," Ron said, taking a forkful of eggs.

"Fred, George?" Arthur asked, turning to the pair. "Would you be interested?"

"No thanks," the twins said in unison.

"Nothing personal, just have some stuff I have to do for the shop today," George said, a slight smirk playing on his face. Draco could only guess that George had some leftover shagging to do, but he didn't know why Fred didn't want to go. Boredom, Draco guessed. Or maybe he really has to do something for the shop.

"Well, that's fine I guess," Molly said, passing Percy a cheese biscuit smothered in horserat jam. "We can go right after breakfast."

---

Fred lay on his head, arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He was all alone in the house. George was off shagging a particularly tasty girl—he had seen her last night when she'd come to pick him up on her broomstick and take him back to her place—and the others had left for Hogsmeade over an hour ago. He sighed, closing his eyes. He had wished that in his attempt to stay home alone today, Draco would have opted to stay home too, and then maybe…

Maybe what? He thought. You and Draco could shag? It was a ridiculous, rash thought. Draco would never do that to Ron, would he? But if he looked at the things that had happened between he and the blonde lately—the looks across the table at dinner, the late night walk and the way Draco touched his cheek, the slight kiss they had shared earlier…

But maybe that was all a game to Draco. The trouble was, Fred couldn't figure out if he was relieved or disappointed that Draco wasn't as interested as he had assumed. And what was he about to say to Draco when he had made a grab for his cock? _I can't._

But he felt another erection growing just thinking about Draco's cheekbones, his strong jaw, his gray icy eyes. He stuck his hand down his pants and felt himself. Maybe the thing he really wanted to say was, _I can't do this to Ron._ Because God knows, he wanted to.

Fred jumped at the sound of a door opening and got up to peek out of his room—he couldn't see the front door but assumed it was probably his father who had forgotten some sort of Muggle contraption to protect them from the rain clouds outside. Why his father never chose to use a Rain Protection Charm was beyond him. He sighed and settled back down into bed, not bothering to close the door lest his father need his help looking, or wondering where George had gone off to…

"Fred?" a voice asked. Fred glanced over at the door to someone who definitely was not his father, and who definitely was Draco Malfoy. Before he could do anything about it, Draco stepped inside and closed the bedroom door.

"Hi Draco," Fred managed to say, shifting himself up to sit back against the wall.

Draco smirked and leaned against the door, arms crossed.

"Do you need something?" Fred asked, agitated at Draco's calm appearance and only all-too-reminded of the Draco he used to know, the arrogant little prat from Hogwarts.

"Yes," Draco said nonchalantly. "And so do you."

"What are you talking about?"

Draco studied his nails. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

Fred narrowed his eyes. "About what?"

"Oh, just a few things I like to know about a person. For example, do you like cock?"

"Excuse me?"

"And, do you like it from behind?"

"You're a right git, Malfoy," Fred growled.

"Just one more and I'll be through. In the case that you do like both of these things, would you like my cock from behind?"

"_Out_."

Draco sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Why so offended?"

Fred stood up, an inch taller than Draco at his full height, and loomed over the blonde vixen. He opened his mouth to speak, but he had no answer. He wasn't really offended. In fact, the devilish look on Draco's face, his high cheekbones, the way he could feel his breath on his neck, did quite the opposite of offend…

"Why did you stay home today, Fred?" Draco asked, looking up at Fred and standing up straighter, their faces an inch apart. Fred sighed, leaned down, and touched his lips to Draco's.

Draco chuckled, running a hand through Fred's long ginger hair. "That's what I thought."

---

Pansy woke up in the arms of a stranger.

"Ugh, not again," she groaned, crawling out of bed and pulling on her underwear, which lie in a lacy pink heap on the floor with her pants and shirt. Last night, Pansy had grown lonely (and drunk) from missing Draco, and in a rash decision went out on the prowl. That was Pansy, after all—looking for love in all the wrong places. Well, it was right the first time, she thought bitterly, referring to Draco of course.

"Ugh, fuck him," she said a little too loudly. The figure rolled over and blinked at her, and she gave an inner sigh of relief that he wasn't bad looking.

"Really, again?" the man asked, his long blonde hair falling over his eyes, his blue eyes flashing. She frowned that they weren't gray, that she wasn't able to find her usual Draco look-alike. Of course, no one would ever compare to Draco, no matter how hard she pretended. And as for his question, well, Pansy would usually jump right back into bed and do some morning shagging, but this morning she had an extra terrible headache and her head was foggier than she preferred.

"No, sorry," she said, and apparated out of the bedroom into her own apartment. It was Sunday, and Pansy only had a bit of time left until she got to discover the true whereabouts of Bellatrix Lestrange. She wondered though, her brow furrowed, if Narcissa would take her with open arms as she had before. She had disowned Draco for being in the Righteous, after all. Would she not disown Pansy?

Of course she won't, Pansy thought. Not once you tell her whose side you're really on. But Pansy had to get some things in order first. She couldn't find Bellatrix without Draco being loyal to the late Dark Lord, or else Bellatrix might descde to off him. She had to move quickly. She went over to her window and stroked her owl, Tilly, on the head; it cooed up at her softly. She unrolled a piece of parchment from a desk drawer and scrawled a note on it, then attached it to Tilly's leg.

"Find Draco," she whispered to her owl, then opened the window and released Tilly into the midday sky.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter Eight**

"I've never done _that_ before."

"Did you like it?"

Fred hesitated. "Yes."

Draco smirked. "So did I."

Draco was sitting up against the wall, smoking a cigarette, and Fred lay naked beneath the sheets, arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Draco loved Fred's body—surprisingly strong, strong enough to handle him, his hair dark red with the moisture of sex-smelling sweat. Fred sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking in the direction of the window.

"What is it?" Draco asked, putting out his cigarette.

"Owl," Fred said, standing up to open the window and to let the bird inside. "Hm. It looks rather familiar."

"Tilly?" Draco said. The bird cooed and cocked its head sideways at Draco, who took the parchment off its leg.

"Who's Tilly?"

"Pansy's owl," Draco replied gravely. Fred shot Draco a look but the blonde just shrugged and unrolled the parchment.

_Urgent business. We need to meet. Today at the Leaky Cauldron, one o'clock. _ Signed Pansy in neat, loopy handwriting.

"I have to go," Draco groaned, looking up at Fred apologetically.

"Okay."

Draco liked that Fred didn't ask any questions, just handed him his boxers and shirt.

"Thanks," said Draco, pulling on his clothes. "Just tell Ron that…"

Fred's expression went sour at the mention of his youngest brother's name and Draco sighed. "Tell Ron that I'll meet him back at our apartment."

"Okay," Fred said. Draco turned to leave, wondering if Fred would say more. He didn't. Draco reluctantly turned around to face Fred, taking in his tall, naked body, his messy hair, his feral eyes.

"Can I see you again?" Fred asked suddenly.

"Yes," Draco said.

"From Parkinson, is it?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrows at the parchment.

"Yeah, why?"

Fred snorted. "Is it really urgent news, then?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Knowing Pansy, probably not," Draco admitted. "But I have a responsibility to make sure."

Fred nodded. "I'll be seeing you then, Malfoy."

"Likewise, Weasley." And Draco apparated out of the bedroom, leaving Fred behind, alone and naked.

---

Pansy sat on a bench outside the Leaky Cauldron, twiddling her thumbs anxiously.

"Alone, miss?" a tall man asked. Pansy looked up and sneered at the stranger.

"No."

"A pretty girl like you shouldn't be," he said, winking and making no move to get away. Pansy sighed—she hated this kind of unwanted attention. It seemed that she got attention from everyone except Draco. Except for now, she thought. If he even bothered showing up. Pansy had taken a great deal of time getting ready—wearing her best red dress, curling her hair, applying the shade of lipstick that tasted like cherries.

"Pansy?" Draco walked up, shoved past the man, and stood in front of Pansy. Pansy stood up quickly and shot the man a look, who glared at Draco as he dragged her away.

They got a table at the restaurant and sat down in the back. Pansy just noticed how casual Draco looked—wearing dark pants and a dark collared shirt, she had never seen him look this way. He was usually decked out in a suit or a robe. It _was_ the weekend, she thought, studying him carefully.

"What is it then?" Draco asked, leaning forward. Pansy folded her arms over her menu.

"I'm not hungry, are you?" Pansy asked.

"I could eat—but really, what is it you need?" Draco asked. She realized that he sounded a bit agitated. He must have been with Ron, Pansy thought sadly. She lowered her voice.

"I really do have important things I need to discuss with you, Draco," she said, reaching her hand across the table and touching his arm. He looked down at the contact warily but made no move to move his arm away. "But we can't talk about it here."

"Why not?"

"Too public."

Draco looked around. It was a bit crowded.

"Fine. Your place, then?"

Pansy sat back, alarmed but content. He had made the first move in her plan without her even having to coax him. She stood up and held out her hand. Reluctantly, he took it.

"Let's go then," she said, smiling. Draco half-smiled back and together they went outside.

"You have to hold onto me," Pansy said.

"What? Why?"

"Because I have a charm on my house that only allows me to apparate into it. Which means you have to hold onto me if you want to get in."

"Oh…okay then."

Pansy let Draco drape his long arms around her waist and she leaned into his chest, smelling the cool fabric of his clothing and the soft aroma of his skin. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"Uh…Pansy?"

"Oh yeah, okay," she said, standing up straight and pivoting into thin air. When they stopped moving through the tight rubber tube of the apparation, Pansy and Draco were standing in the middle of their living room. She watched Draco take a look around at the leather couches, the minibar, the fireplace and the plush carpeting.

"Nice place," Draco finally said. Pansy smiled.

"Being in the Righteous pays well, you know," she walked over to the bar. "Care for a drink?"

"Some firewhiskey might be nice," he said. Pansy flicked her wand and poured a glass full of the smoking red liquid, then handed it to Draco.

"Thanks. Yeah, Ron and I have been talking about getting a bigger place. With our income we could afford it."

"Uh huh," Pansy said, taking a sip of her own drink. She had no intentions of discussing Ron tonight. She took off her shoes and motioned for the couch.

"Would you like to sit down?" she asked. Pansy sat down on the couch and watched Draco as he sat down beside her—closely beside her.

"So," he said, turning to her. "Can you tell me now?"

Pansy took another sip of her alcohol and crossed her legs up on the couch, turning toward Draco completely. She couldn't just come out and say what she needed to say, she knew. She had to bring him in somehow. She had to make him vulnerable, make him weak to persuasion…

"Don't be mad at me," Pansy said, not daring to look Draco directly in the eyes, but she saw his smile fade.

"No urgent business, then?"

"Well…yes…and no."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"I miss you, Draco," Pansy heard herself say.

Draco groaned, but smiled into his whiskey.

"Pansy, Pansy, Pansy…" he said quietly. "Tsk, tsk."

"I'm sorry," Pansy said, but she was smiling now. "Don't you enjoy my company?" She moved her bare foot across his pant leg. He grabbed her foot and gently pushed it away.

"It's fine, Pansy."

"I just needed to see you," she whispered, leaning forward and placing her head on his shoulder. "You don't understand, Draco. Life isn't the same without you."

"Pansy," Draco said in a warning tone. Pansy shook her head and looked up, laughing gently.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said, clearing her throat. "I just get a little carried away, that's all."

"It's okay," he said, his eyes sympathetic. "You know that…"

"What?"

"You know that I still care about you."

Pansy took a deep breath. "You do?"

Draco ran a hand through her hair. "Of course I do. You were my first…love…"

Pansy dared to touch his finger with hers—he did nothing to stop it.

"You never forget your first," she said, looking up at him seriously through long lashes.

"No," he whispered, leaning forward. "You don't."

Suddenly Pansy and Draco were kissing, his soft mouth pressed hard up against hers. Pansy set down her glass and fell into Draco's arms, his hands pressed against her back. Draco grabbed her wrist, pulled away from her kiss, and held it up.

"What are you looking at?" Pansy asked, Draco's eyes filled with fear. He shook his head and loosed his grip, resuming to stroking her hair.

"It just scared me…" he said. Pansy scooted closer and slowly removed his shirt, then held his own wrist up for them to see. Draco's Dark Mark clashed wildly against his paper-white skin.

"I do my best to ignore it," Draco said, lowering his eyes from his mark.

"You poor boy," Pansy said. "You know, I only joined because of you."

"Let's not speak of it, Pansy."

"And I only left…because of you…" she brought her lips to his ear. "But I still pledge my allegiance to the Dark Lord…"

"Pansy!" Draco yelled, sitting up and backing away from her. She looked up at him, clutching her wrist.

"I'm kidding, Draco," Pansy said, her lips curling into a smile.

"Jesus Christ," Draco said, sitting back down. "You think that's a funny joke?"

Pansy shrugged. "I just wanted to see your reaction." She put her arms around him and they kissed again.

"We're the same, Draco," Pansy said, running her lips across his. "You realize how easy this is? How comfortable this is?"

Draco hesitated only for a moment before giving in, like she knew he would. She didn't realize it would be this easy. Pansy knew that she would have to admit the truth some time. And soon, before she spoke to Narcissa, before she found Bellatrix. She would have to convince Draco that he truly belonged with her. She forced the thought out of her mind. She had no idea how she would do it, considering he had freaked out on her only a few moments ago when she tried. She would just have to try again, she thought, but as she felt Draco move a hand up her skirt, she smiled and gave into his touch. First things first, she thought. I get to have a little fun.

---

"Have a nice time?" Fred asked George, who had just apparated back into the bedroom. George grinned.

"You bet I did."

"You were gone a long time."

George just winked at his brother. Fred just grinned and shook his head. He wasn't the only one getting laid, Fred thought. But that would have to be his little secret.

"Are the others back yet?" George asked, opening the bedroom door. "I'm starved, I'm going to get some food."

Fred stood up, realizing that he was hungry, too.

"No, they're not back yet."

"Uh huh," George mumbled, scrambling down the stairs to the kitchen and grabbing a piece of bread and a jar of horserat jam.

"I think that's old," Fred said, grimacing at the green jam. George shrugged and opened the jar, taking a whiff.

"Blimey, it's bloody dreadful!" George laughed, holding the jar out to his twin. "Go ahead, sniff it!"

"No!" Fred yelled, but leaned forward and sniffed the horserat jam anyway. "Ugh! I'm never eating that stuff again!"

George laughed and threw it into the trash. The twins looked up in unison at the sound of the front door opening. George went back to digging through the fridge for something else to put on his bread but Fred was concentrating on avoiding looking guilty around Ron.

"You two missed a glorious day at Hogsmeade!" Fred's father said, hanging up his hat and putting his purchases on the dining room table. "I bought some wonderful things at Hobble Goblins!"

"Great, dad," said George.

"It's too bad Draco got sick," Arthur said. Fred stiffened at the sound of Draco's name.

"Hey you two," Ron said. "Did Draco come back here?"

Fred looked over at his brother.

"Yeah. He told me to tell you that he was waiting for you at your apartment."

"Oh," said Ron. "I guess I'd better go, then."

"Oh, please don't go yet, Ron," Charlie said. "You promised me a game of chess."

"And I'm making your favorite tonight," Molly said, frowning.

"But what if Draco's really sick—"

"He's a grown man," said Bill. "He can take care of himself for a couple of hours."

Ron sighed and sauntered upstairs, presumably going to the loo. Fred felt his stomach tighten with guilt. He hadn't even thought about how Draco got himself out of the Hogsmeade visit. However, one passing thought of Draco naked and all of Fred's guilt was replaced by sheer longing. Draco had told Fred that he could see him again—but how long would he have to wait?

**Author's Note:** Sorry that this chapter is so short, the plot with Bellatrix will resume in the next chapter and I promise it will be longer. Thanks you guys.

--Phoenix D.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter Nine**

Draco's head pounded. A night of alcohol and fancy shagging would do that trick every time. But this time it was different. This time, it wasn't just Draco's head that was hurting. It was his heart.

"Fuck this," Draco muttered, throwing Pansy's arm aside and pulling on his boxers. He checked the digital clock on her nightstand—10 p.m. Ron would be worried sick, he thought, grimacing. _He_ felt sick. Draco stood up and pulled on the rest of his clothes, which were wrinkled and stained with the whiskey he had spilt. He stopped still when he heard Pansy stir in bed, but she just rolled over, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open. He had the urge to spit on her, to desecrate her. Stupid, dirty whore, he thought. What had gotten into him. Jesus fucking Christ, _what_ had gotten _into_ him?

Fred and Pansy, apparently, he thought bitterly, pivoting out of the room. The loud _Crack!_ of his apparation gave the redhead in the bed he stood beside a fright, Ron jumping up and reaching for his wand.

"Bloody hell," Ron mumbled, turning on the light. "Where the hell were you?"

"I received Order business," Draco said. It was the truth, partly. Ron closed his eyes and sunk his head back on the pillow.

"Are you feeling better?" Ron asked.

"What's that?" Draco asked, pulling off his shirt and pants and not even bothering to get into a nightgown.

"Do you feel better?" Ron repeated. "You said you felt sick today, remember…?"

"I still feel sick," Draco said, speaking the truth once again. "Like shit, as a matter of fact."

"I'm sorry," Ron said. Draco shrugged and crawled into bed, cringing as Ron put an arm around him. How could he let Ron touch him now? Ron was also touching Fred, was touching Pansy, was touching all of Draco's lies. Draco was dirty, and he didn't want to make Ron that way. He backed away, trying to think of an excuse.

"I don't want to get you sick," Draco said, rolling over. But Ron was already snoring, and Draco was lying wide-eyed in bed, wondering what the hell he was going to do next.

"Morning Draco, Ron." Harry Potter stood in the front of the room, leaning down over the table where he had some papers—and the file Harry had given Draco regarding his mother's whereabouts.

"Morning, Harry," Ron said, yawning. They were the first ones here—Pansy, Neville, and Alexandra were yet to arrive. Thank God, Draco thought. He was anxious to see Pansy, and not in a good way. Would she say anything? Would she try to make another move? Would he even be able to resist it?

"Pansy still in?" Harry asked. Draco cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Harry, who was looking at him expectedly.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked.

"Is Pansy still going to talk to Narcissa?"

"Oh. Yeah. She's in."

Draco exhaled a sigh of relief, but this didn't hold long—Alexandra and Neville entered together after a couple of minutes, saying their hellos and taking their seats, and no less than minute later Pansy walked in. Draco looked straight at Harry, his body tensing, but Pansy made no move to sit beside him. She didn't even say hello.

"Pansy," Harry said, and Draco winced at the sound of her name.

"What's wrong?" Ron whispered to Draco. "You look tense."

Draco shook his head.

"Jesus, Draco, are you about to vomit?" Ron asked again, his voice edging with worry. Draco shook his head, but the nerves in his stomach were rising, and he stood up suddenly.

"Excuse me," he said, and walked swiftly to a nearby bathroom where he leaned over the toilet and puked up alcohol and stomach acid. Little red bits were floating in the toilet and Draco's head felt like it had been stabbed with a cursed wand. The vomiting didn't make him feel one bit better, as he still had to go back and be in the same room as Pansy.

"Get a hold of yourself," he said, and slowly, he stood up, his legs shaking. He wiped his mouth off with a paper towel and stared at himself in the mirror. Other than the dark circles under his eyes, he didn't look that bad. Just one perk to being a Malfoy, he supposed. Draco took a deep breath and walked back out into the conference room.

"You okay there, mate?" Harry asked. Draco nodded and sat back down. "Okay. So I'll fly in front, Pansy, you and Draco fly behind me—"

"What?" Draco said abruptly. He cast a look at Pansy but she just smiled.

"You're taking Pansy," Harry repeated. "She can't fly as well as you. And the rest of you circle. When we get to the house, we'll all wait outside except for Pansy. Alexandra and I will be waiting by the windows to watch if anything goes wrong, and Pansy, you know the signal if you sense that you're in danger…"

Pansy nodded. "Scratch my left ear."

"Right. Is everyone ready then?"

Everyone stood up and Pansy walked over to Draco, who took a step back.

"Are you ready, Draco?" she asked, peering up at him. He said nothing, but clenched his jaw and walked outside with the others. Once outside, Draco mounted his broom, Pansy climbing on behind him and putting her hands around his waist. She leaned into his ear.

"Be careful, then, Draco," she said. Draco kicked off and waited for the others to be far away enough so that they couldn't hear him speak.

"I suppose this was your idea," Draco snarled, taking a sharp dip on purpose just to throw Pansy a fright. She gasped and dug her nails into his stomach.

"No," she said. "It was Potter's. He's not all bad I suppose."

Draco snarled and turned to the right, following Potter's lead.

"Why did you leave without a good-bye?" Pansy whispered over the wind.

"Consider my leave a good-bye," Draco snapped.

They rode for the next twenty minutes in silence, with nothing but the wind in their ears.

"We're going to land!" Harry yelled.

"Isn't it at least two blocks away from here?" yelled Neville. But they all followed Harry and lowered their brooms, landing in a dark alleyway. Draco immediately jumped off his broom and walked away from Pansy, over to Harry.

"Yes," Harry said to Neville. "We're going to walk the rest of the way."

"Do you know what you're going to say to Narcissa?" Harry asked, turning to Pansy.

"Yes."

Draco and the others stopped in front of a street sign; _Lightning Rd._ it read. Draco didn't need anyone to tell him that it was the shabby looking home at the end of the street. Harry motioned to the others. Draco and Neville went to one side, Ron to the other. Harry and Alexandra crouched in the bushes beside two windows and Draco watched in mild disgust and slight anxiousness as Pansy walked up the front steps and knocked on the door. The mission was in her hands now.

---

Pansy stood her ground when a tall, heavy man with a scrubby beard and pit stains opened the door, a beer in one hand and a gun in the other. Muggle, Pansy thought.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, spitting through the holes in his nearly toothless mouth. "You're not the landlord are you? Fuck, we paid the rent two days ago."

"We?" Pansy asked.

"Yeah, me and the Misses." He motioned inside. "Hey Missy, there's a girl here." Pansy shoved her way past the man.

"Hey, what—"

"It's fine, John," a voice said from inside the dark room—Pansy couldn't see the woman because she was hidden by the shadows, but she recognized the dark, smooth voice of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Whatever…" John mumbled, closing the door and grunting dirty swears as he walked into another room.

"Come here," Narcissa said. "Let me see you."

"Do you know who I am?" Pansy asked, taking a small step forward. The shadowy figure moved forward too, the dusty light illuminating her silver-blonde hair. She took another step, and Pansy stared in silence as Narcissa revealed herself—a pale beauty, thin and hollow-looking, her eyes as sharp and light as her son's, her hair tied back from her face. Narcissa smiled coldly.

"Of course I know who you are, Pansy Parkinson. Now the question is, why are you here?"

Pansy took a deep breath. All she had to do was tell Narcissa the truth now. Well, nearly the entire truth, she thought. There was one tiny detail she would have to lie about…

"Narcissa, there are things I need to tell you," Pansy said. Narcissa motioned for her to sit down and Pansy did. Narcissa sat on an opposing chair and stared straight into Pansy's eyes, her frosty stare drilling into her.

"Go on," the blonde said.

"As you know, I used to be a Death Eater," Pansy spoke.

"Yes," Narcissa hissed. "And if I remember correctly, you left that loyalty behind. And now my husband still rots in Azkaban, and I have lost my only son."

"The Death Eaters fell apart," Pansy said. "The majority have been captured by the Order."

Narcissa spat. "Ah, the precious Order."

"I belong to a special section of the Order called the Righteous. We specialize in capturing former Death Eaters."

Narcissa drew her wand immediately and pointed it at Pansy.

"If you have come to capture me, you are terribly mistaken."

"I haven't," Pansy said impatiently, gripping her own wand beneath her robes. "I know that you were not a Death Eater."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Then why have you come?"

Pansy leaned forward. "I have come to unlock the whereabouts of your sister, Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Why?"

Pansy raised her sleeve. "I am still loyal to the Dark Lord, Narcissa."

Narcissa laughed. "A foolish loyalty. The Dark Lord is dead."

"But Bellatrix isn't. There is still hope for us."

"Who are you with?"

"Excuse me?"

"There are others here. How many?"

Pansy hesitated. "Five."

"Who?"

"Potter. Weasley. Longbottom. Fralinger."

"And?"

"And Draco."

Narcissa looked away.

"I do not trust you, Pansy," Narcissa said. Pansy stood up and walked over to Narcissa, lowering herself to her knees, taking Narcissa's hands and looking up into her eyes.

"I swear to you that my loyalty does not lie with them. I want to join your sister. I want to join her in her efforts to recover what our Dark Lord could not complete—"

Narcissa gripped her hands tightly and pulled her up, their faces mere inches away from each other now.

"You are a liar," Narcissa hissed, releasing her. Pansy thought hard. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.

"I will make the Unbreakable Vow," she said. Narcissa laughed.

"You silly girl. There are not enough people here for that and you know it."

"I could retrieve your son," Pansy said.

"I do not have a son."

This was where Pansy had to lie. Her attempts to persuade Draco had fallen short when he had left her last night. But she couldn't go to Bellatrix without first securing Draco. She would just have to convince him in the mean time. Which meant that Draco could not help them make the Unbreakable Vow, not yet. She was putting all of her faith in a bluff.

"Draco still worships the Dark Mark," Pansy said. Narcissa studied her carefully.

"How do you know this?"

"He told me…" Pansy said. "The other night. When I confessed to him that I was not faithful to the Order, he told me that he wasn't either."

"Liar."

"Please, Narcissa…"

Narcissa grabbed Pansy's face with two sharp, bony fingers, and Pansy lowered her gaze, lest Narcissa know she be lying.

"I will not believe this about my son until he comes to me and tells me." Narcissa laughed, pushing Pansy away. "You need not make the Unbreakable Vow, not yet. If Bellatrix finds you, and discovers that you are a liar, she will kill you herself."

"I am not lying. I am faithful to her."

"Tell her yourself."

"Tell me of her whereabouts and I will."

"No," said Narcissa. "I will tell her of your whereabouts, and she will come to you."

Pansy nodded.

"Do it."

"I will."

Pansy stood up and headed toward the door. "I hope that in time you can believe me."

"And I hope that in time, people can learn to be believable."

Pansy didn't see the others until she was at the end of the street, and Harry walked up to her.

"Did you discover it?" he asked.

"No. But I will meet Bellatrix."

"How?" Harry asked feverishly.

"She will come to my home," Pansy said. Harry clenched his fists. "And we will be waiting."

"No!" Pansy said, catching Harry off-guard. "She is too powerful, even for you, Harry. You will be killed."

"Hah!" Harry said. "We'll be waiting for her."

"Maybe…maybe Pansy's right, Harry…" Neville said, stepping forward. "If we all wait for her, Narcissa won't trust Pansy anymore…and Bellatrix won't…if we fail to kill her once, it will be even harder another time…"

"I agree," said Fralinger. "We need a plan. We need someone on the inside. We need Pansy to do some of this alone."

Harry's face grew hot.

"Bellatrix is mine."

Ron put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "In time," he said. "You will have her in time."

"If we wait, find out where she is staying, when Pansy can tell us of her location…then, we can strike," Draco said.

"And you can defeat her," Pansy said, staring up at Harry. "Just give me time."

"Fine," Harry said, mounting his broom. "Let's leave."

Pansy cast a look at Draco before getting on the broom behind him. He was still stiff around her, his body still tense. She lay her head on his shoulder but he could do nothing about it. If he hated her now, how would she ever get him to listen to her about Narcissa? She cradled her forearm, looking at Draco's, which was covered by his long-sleeved shirt. Pity, Pansy thought. He has such nice arms to always be covering them up. She would just have to apologize to Draco, ask him to be her friend. Then…she could bring him to Narcissa. Then, she could reunite the pair and bring him to the other side. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but it was worth it. Soon, she would see Bellatrix again. Soon, she would be reunited with her true path.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of these characters.

**Chapter Ten**

Draco had never cared much for Ginny. It had taken him long enough to warm up to any of the Weasleys, but Ginny he had never grown used to. He supposed it was because she was not quite like the rest of them—not only because she was a girl, although that stood out of course, but because she was ambitious, sharp-tongued, and always had an aggressive shine in her eyes. She would have done well in Slytherin, Draco always thought. Nevertheless, he didn't especially enjoy her company, which is why he felt quite disconcerted when he looked up from his desk crowded with papers (overdue filing on past captured Death Eaters) and saw none other than Ginny Weasley standing in front of his desk. She wore a dark forest green skirt and striped vest, her light red hair tied back into a tight ponytail, her brown eyes lined with black eye liner and mascara.

"Ginny," Draco said.

"Hello Draco," Ginny said hastily, "May I speak to you in private?" She cast a glance around the small room, her eyes landing on Pansy, who was drifting over her computer reading a magazine and smacking purple Bubble Gum (the only Muggle treat she would admit to fancying).

"What about?" Draco asked, standing up. Ginny half-turned, giving Draco a look.

"We'll talk outside."

Draco nodded at Neville on his way out, who raised his eyebrows at Ginny.

"Hey Ginny," Neville said, waving at Ginny and grinning.

"Nice to see you Neville," Ginny said without so much as casting a look in Neville's direction. Draco shrugged at his friend and followed Ginny out into the hallway.

"What's this all about, Ginny?" Draco asked, eyeing Ginny's flustered expression.

"I need to speak to you about my brother."

Draco's cheeks grew red.

"What are your intentions with him?" she continued.

"What?"

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Why are you dating Ron?"

Draco breathed an inner sigh of relief that she wasn't referring to Fred.

"Well I suppose it's because I enjoy his company," Draco replied hautily.

"Hah. You do, do you?" Ginny crossed her arms. "People may think you've changed, Draco, but once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

Draco blinked. "Have you forgotten Snape?"

"Snape is one exception that even I still have doubts about sometimes."

"Well that's fine for you, but I do not appreciate you coming to my workplace and throwing accusations at me. If you haven't noticed, I'm working against the dark cause right now. And if you didn't know already, I didn't _choose_ to become a Death Eater."

Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"I saw you with her," she said.

Draco sneered. "What are you talking about?"

"Pansy Parkinson," Ginny answered. "I saw you together at the Leaky Cauldron, and I saw you two leave together."

Draco laughed. "That was Order business. She works here too, you know."

"Order business? Order business in which you hold hands?"

"How old are you, five?"

Ginny drew herself closer to Draco, her brown eyes flashing angrily.

"I don't trust her," Ginny said.

"Well, that's your predicament," Draco snorted.

"Look, perhaps this hasn't been the best way to go about this—"

"_Clearly_."

"But I'm pretty good at detecting bad blood. And Pansy is not someone you can trust."

"According to you, neither am I."

Ginny looked away. "I admit that I would put my life in your hands before I would with Pansy."

"Good to know. Now, if that's all you have to say—"

"Just listen to me, Draco," Ginny hissed, grabbing his arm. Draco sneered down at it but Ginny didn't loosen her grip.

"Please. I know what it's like to be…" she took a deep breath. "_With_ evil. I know how it feels. I am familiar with its movements."

Draco knew what Ginny was referring to—her very first year at Hogwarts she had been possessed by Voldemort, forced to petrify others, nearly killed herself.

"So do I," Draco said, as he was raised by one of the highest Death Eaters to ever live.

"Exactly," Ginny said.

Something, suddenly occurred to Draco. "Is this why you said you wanted to talk to me back at the Burrow?"

Ginny blushed. "Well…yes, and no. I _did_ want to ask you about your intentions with Ron, but…"

"But what?"

Ginny looked away. "I also wanted to know if you could help me with my hair. I want to dye it blonde and I was wondering if you could recommend anything…"

Draco laughed. "Honey, this color is natural."

Ginny grimaced.

"Are you done wasting my time then?" Draco asked, turning to leave.

"Just…please, keep an eye on her," Ginny said, true fear filling her eyes. Draco sighed.

"Like I haven't been doing that since day one."

When Draco went back into the office he glanced at Pansy, who was sitting cross-legged on her swivel chair reading Vanity Heir: The Slytherin Right. Draco rolled his eyes and was about to go back to his seat when he thought better of it—the conversation with Ginny, though ridiculous and random, was still playing in his mind, and even though Draco wasn't about believe a word Ginny said, he knew that she was a smart girl. And as Draco thought begrudgingly, it was his responsibility as a member of the Order to check this kind of thing out. He walked over to Neville's desk, where Neville was whistling and watering a small orange plant.

"What's this?" Draco asked, nodding at the plant.

"This is an Octopie! They only grow in Jamaica but I was able to ship one over here for half price! Isn't she beautiful!" Neville exclaimed, beaming.

"It's…orange."

"It won't be orange for long. With the right amount of firewhiskey and sunlight, this baby'll turn bright pink and its leaves will span two feet!"

"Is it wise to keep it in the office?"

"Oh yeah, they're perfectly harmless. Unless you're a fly. Or a careless finger."

Draco cocked an eyebrow and rested his hands in his pockets.

"Neville, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Haven't we been?"

"About something else?"

Neville shrugged. "Well sure. It's not about Bunny, is it?"

"Bunny?"

Neville pointed to his plant.

"Uh…no, Neville, it's not about…listen, we need to step outside."

Neville suddenly turned serious. "You're sacking me, aren't you?"

"What? No, just…come on."

Draco lead Neville into the hallway, turning warily to look at the door in case someone followed them. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Neville.

"What is it, Draco?" Neville asked, his eyebrows furrowed with curiosity and slight worry.

"We've known each other for a long time, right Neville?" Draco asked.

"Um…yeah?"

"So can I ask you a question?"

"I suppose I can't keep you from it…"

Draco sighed. "Neville, I need to ask you…"

"Yes?"

"…is there anyone here that you don't trust?"

Neville was silent for a minute, his stare inquiring.

"Neville?" Draco prompted.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Is there anyone who works here, in the Righteous, that you don't trust, is what I mean."

"I don't exactly know how to answer that, Draco. It's quite random. Does this have to do with what Ginny said to you? Just now?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, looking around. "Ginny isn't stupid," Draco mumbled.

"Nope," Neville said, stepping forward. "Draco, what's going on? Did she upset you?"

"Ginny warned me."

"Warned you? About what?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "About Parkinson."

"What?"

"Odd, isn't it?"

"Well…yes. And no…to tell you the truth, I've always wondered about Pansy."

"Have you?" Draco asked, staring up into Neville's brown eyes. Neville shrugged.

"She just seems a bit shady to me, that's all."

Draco put a hand to his forehead as if it ached. "I don't know what to think."

"Draco…if you think there's any reason to doubt Pansy's loyalty, you need to tell Harry."

Draco nodded.

"Do you have a reason?" Neville continued.

Other than the fact that she's an attention whore, Draco thought.

"No. If I had, she wouldn't be here."

"Well it's like you said Draco, Ginny isn't stupid. If she doesn't trust Pansy, and she snuck over here during her work hours to tell you about it, then you can bet she has a reason. And I think you need to find out what that reason is."

---

"I knew you'd come around," Ginny said lightly, smiling as she poured Draco a cup of tea, extra sugar. Her hair was tied back into a loose pony tail and she wore a white cotton shirt. She looked much less tense now than she had yesterday, and Draco felt slightly less uncomfortable sitting here in she and Harry's living room with his tie loosely hanging around his collar and his black dress shoes off.

"Let's just say it's my responsibility," he said, taking a sip of tea and sitting down on a sofa across from Ginny. "Tell me what you know."

"Would you like me to tell you?" she asked, standing up. "Or _show_ you?"

Ginny worked as a Forensics Investigator at the Ministry of Magic. It was after hours, but Ginny brought she and Draco inside with no problem. She offered him a pair of gloves and put some on herself before entering the lab. Draco watched as she opened a filing cabinet and took out a folder and some plastic evidence bags.

"Do you remember the Bellatrix meeting five months ago?" Ginny asked.

"Five months ago…you mean when that Muggle car blew up?" Draco remembered. He and the others were chasing after Bellatrix in a strict Muggle community (entirely risky) when a Muggle car had blown up out of no where and Bellatrix was no where to be seen.

"That explosion?" Ginny continued. "It wasn't an accident."

She held up one of the plastic bags. "Evidence A. This was found at the scene of the crime. I sent it into the lab _months_ ago but only got it back a couple of days ago because of all the back-up due to…well…you know, all the shit that's been happening since Voldemort was killed. Crimes still occurring all over the place."

Draco peered into the bag, which in it looked like black dust.

"Wand residue. Unicorn and cherry."

"So?"

"So. This could belong to anyone. A lot of people have wands of unicorn and cherry. But when we ran it through at the lab, we found that it is a perfect match of the wand that Ollivander sold to a certain witch oh about…ten years ago?"

"Pansy," Draco sighed.

"Bingo."

Ginny held up the next bag.

"Evidence B."

It looked like a piece of paper with moving red lines on it that zapped from one side of the page to another. Draco had never seen anything like it before.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Apparation tracking that shows Pansy apparating from London to an island off the coast of Europe," Ginny said. "And this—" she continued, holding up another bag of what looked like a ticket, "is a ticket to the Azkaban train, purchased by Pansy about four months ago. Now Draco, can you think of any reason why Pansy would book a trip to Azkaban?"

"Plenty," Draco said gravely.

"My guess? Pansy blew up that car. Pansy went to Azkaban to visit former Death Eaters."

"And now Pansy is going to meet Bellatrix," Draco whispered to himself, panic filling his heart.

Ginny put the evidence down. "What?"

"I have to go," Draco said.

"She's going to meet Bellatrix?"

"Yes. And I can't let that happen. I need to tell Potter, now."

"I'm coming with you," Ginny said, grabbing her coat.

"Whatever then, come on," Draco said, grabbing Ginny by the arm.

"Hold on, Draco. I have one more question to ask you," Ginny said.

"What?"

"What were you doing with Pansy that day at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I told you, Order business."

"Bullshit," Ginny said.

Draco sighed. "I'm in a hurry, Ginny."

"Calm down. Five more minutes won't cost you anything."

"What is it you want me to tell you?"

"The truth."

Draco rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, his lips pouting. "Pansy…told me that she needed to discuss Order business with me," Draco said hesitantly. "But when I went to meet her…it just seemed that…she wanted to…do other things…"

Ginny crossed her arms. "I'm not going to pry anymore into that, even though I love my dear brother."

"Pansy wants me back," Draco said.

"That isn't all she wants."

"What do you mean?"

"Call it a hunch Draco, but it all seems a bit coincidental. She knows that she's going to come into contact with Bellatrix soon, and then she makes a move on you? Why do you think that is?"

Draco said nothing.

"I think she's trying to turn you to their side, Draco."

"What? She can't just want to get with me?"

Ginny cleared her throat. "As…charming…as you may be, Draco, no. I mean, don't doubt that Pansy really _does _want you back to some degree. But I think she wants you back all of a sudden because if she doesn't do it now, she'll never have another chance." Ginny paused. "Bellatrix will try to kill all of the Order, including you."

"But not if I'm on their side."

"Exactly."

"Is that all then?"

"I believe so."

"Then let's tell Potter," Draco said anxiously. "We need to act quickly."

---

"I've always liked you, Pansy."

"Really?"

"Yes," Bellatrix smiled. "You look like me."

"Thank you."

Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"This is ridiculous."

But Pansy couldn't help being flattered by the comparison. It was quite true—they were both pale with dark hair, dark lips, big, dark eyes. Bellatrix wore a dark crimson robe, her wand at her side, and Narcissa wore a royal blue robe, her hair falling over her shoulders, her pale eyes cold and wide.

"So, Pansy," Bellatrix said, her lips curled into a strange smile. "You pledge your allegiance to the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix shot a look at her sister, who looked bored.

"A noble prospect," Bellatrix said. "But you need only pledge your allegiance to me now." Bellatrix sauntered over to Pansy and sat down beside her.

"Of course," Pansy said.

"I'm glad for you Pansy," Bellatrix smiled. "I thought that all the good ones had gone. And my dear sister wouldn't dare join me, all because she doesn't want to end up like her silly husband."

"Watch your tongue, Bella," Narcissa hissed.

Bellatrix smiled at Narcissa coolly. "No worry. Once we begin, he will be free."

"And do you expect there to be much of him left?" Narcissa asked angrily. Bellatrix ignored her and put two fingers on Pansy's forearm, closing her eyes.

"If you concentrate, you can still feel him," Bellatrix said. She opened her eyes suddenly and stared into Pansy. "His power still runs in our veins."

She lifted her sleeve to show her Mark, looking up at her sister. "Narcissa," she whispered. "It's time."

Narcissa drew her wand and rolled her eyes, strolling over to the pair. Bellatrix joined hands with Pansy and together they knelt on the floor, looking into each other's eyes. Narcissa stood over them, her wand at the ready.

"Pansy," Bellatrix said. "Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"Yes."

"Do you vow to live under my service, under the service of the Dark Lord's will?"

"Yes."

"And do you promise to be loyal to that service, or else die upon its promise?"

Pansy did not even hesitate. "Yes."

As Bellatrix spoke, three red chains of smoke evaporated from Narcissa's wand, wrapping around Bellatrix and Pansy's joined hands.

Bellatrix smiled slyly. "It's done."

Little did the witches know though, that while they secured their sacred evil promises, a pair of eyes watched from the window. With his wand ready, his eyes narrowed, Draco Malfoy watched.

And waited.

**Author's Note:**_A Crimson Crush_ is part one of a two part story. I want to take time away from this story to concentrate on _The Room of Requirement_, and then I will begin a new story which features Hermione and Draco (and vampires). After those stories are completed, I'll start on the second part of this story, called _Scarlet Fever_. The narration will be Harry, Ron, Draco, and there will be more smutty Fred/Draco action for all of you sick bastards. Thank you my loyal readers! kiss

--Phoenix D.


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